


FILE: BUSTED

by ShadowcrestNightingale



Series: The Subconscious Files [2]
Category: Id:Invaded (Anime)
Genre: Canon - Anime, Canon Compliant, Crimes & Criminals, Dream worlds, Gen, Infiltration, Manga & Anime, Murder, Murder Mystery, Neurological Disorders, Post-Canon, Prison, Psychological Trauma, Psychosis, Revenge, Science Fiction, Serial Killers, Thriller, Triggers, War Crimes, canon compatible
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:54:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 41,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25767028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowcrestNightingale/pseuds/ShadowcrestNightingale
Summary: With Fukuda awakened from the coma Narihisago wishes for one thing: that he be returned to that state! After a particularly rough night, an ornery Narihisago couldn't imagine things getting worse … until by circumstance he and Fukuda become the only hope for Kura against a calculated infiltration. Can two serial killers who don't work well together manage to not murder each other in the face of this crisis? Faced with only one way to terminate the madman's plan, Momoki and the Wellside crew brace for the worst wondering if they will ever see daylight again. For once the trigger is pulled no one can intervene.Canon compatible, expanding off the world in the same feel as the episodes, filling in gaps.MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING: If psychological disorders and suicide are triggers, DO NOT read! ID: Invaded gets heavy into this and I am writing to the feel of the series.
Series: The Subconscious Files [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1869256
Comments: 271
Kudos: 37





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> When writing for a fandom I tend to carry a bit of head-canon through the various stories. It's not essential to read them all, but I also like to hide Easter eggs and such, you might get more from the full reads. This one follows a while after FILE: HUNTED.

__

_Damn, was I ever that young?_ Narihisago blinked as the old Metropolitan police station locker room played out before him. He'd gotten used to the strange, disembodied feeling watching reruns of portions of his life … some with rather questionable filtering. He cracked a smile at the spiky haired twenty-something standing in front of his locker changing out of his beat uniform. It'd been eons since he'd been in that uniform … well, on a regular basis. 

The locker room looked the same as he remembered it. Flaking paint on the walls, dented metal lockers, crowded conditions with the echoes of idle chatter at shift change. But everyone went through this if they wanted to get anywhere on the force. It was where mettle was proved—or not.

_Alright, which day was this? Oh, there's Momoki. Heh, short cropped hair under that ridiculous department cap. We sure didn't make the uniform look great. Neither one of us was particularly well suited for this particular duty. Man, I don't miss those heel blisters! We look pretty worn out, common for hoofin' it all around the division's beat … so why this day?_

Around the door of the locker, his younger self peeked making sure no one else in the crowded room as listening. “Uh, hey, Funetaro, you … got any plans?”

_I'm so nervous my voice was cracking. Ok, what the heck was going on?_

Funetaro pulled out a pale blue button-up shirt focusing more on feeding each button through than his reply. “Not really, Akihito. Why?”

“I was hoping you'd have time to go to the bar, you know, for a drink? I really need to ask you something.” Akihito tugged on the collar of the shirt he'd just buttoned up, his purple striped tie still hanging undone.

“Why not? After **today** I could use a little something to loosen up. Still can't get over that old lady, talk about a temper! Couldn't get a word in and we were just trying to help.” He glanced up. “Got a place in mind?”

Akihito finished sinching his tie and nodded. They both grabbed their jackets and wandered out of the locker room.

Like magic the bar materialized into one of their favorite beat-day haunts.

Bellied up to the bar, Akihito and Momoki sat on stools waiting for the bartender to deliver their beers. Nothing special, in fact it seemed as though Akihito was entirely distracted by something. His hand absently toyed with something in his pocket.

_Wait a second … was this when—oh God!_

“You wanted to ask me something?” Funetaro took a sip of his beer only to look over as the bar fell into utter silence.

A very awkward silence as Akihito held a small jewelry box in the palm of his hand between them. At that moment everyone, including some of the guys from the force, looked their way.

Funetaro grinned and whispered, “Well now, I didn't know you felt **that** way about me.”

Akihito choked.

“Relax.” Picking up his beer, he laughed. “Jeez, I've been waiting for you to ask me about this for months now. Come on, you just want to know if Ayako will like what you picked, right?”

_Her engagement ring. I was so nervous I nearly fainted right there. Of course the entire 'getting the wrong idea' didn't help._

Akihito handed over the box, practically gnawing off his fingernails. “I had no idea what I was doing. It's the best I could afford and still have something to live off. But that's not even really what I'm worried about.” He pulled his beer over and took a deep gulp, resting his forehead in his hand. “What if she doesn't say yes?”

Studying the glittering ring, Funetaro laughed and clamped a hand on Akihito's shoulder. “ **That's** what you're worried about? Wow, you really are a terrible reader when it comes to this, buddy. If you think she's going to refuse you … hahaha! My father would sooner curse in public than the chances of that happening.”

Akihito spat out a mouthful of beer. He glanced apologetically at the bartender before reaching over to grab a towel and mop up the mess. He turned back Funetaro. “How do you know?”

“Be serious! I know my little sister.”

“But,” he held his hands wide, “look at me. Your family is so distinguished. Your father is a police commissioner, a local legend. Compared to … well, I came from out in the rural sector of the Fukui prefecture. It's not like my parents are anything special. I'm just not a good match.”

“What is it with you and over analyzing everything?” He pushed the beer closer. “Take a few more swigs, loosen up a bit. Why can't you realize what an achievement it is to make it through the academy on your own like you did? You came to Tokyo without much of anything, and look at you now.”

His shoulders fell. “I live in a tiny apartment. Not a family mansion.”

“You think she cares about that? All I hear whenever I'm home is Aki this, and Aki that. Do you have any idea the number of people whose names Ayako shortens?”

He shook his head.

Funetaro poked him in the chest. “Just yours. You have nothing to worry about. She's gonna say yes. And that ring? I couldn't have advised a better pick. She wouldn't have wanted a gaudy bauble for her delicate hands. This is a perfect gem. You just have to be yourself. She already loves you, pal.”

Releasing a full breath, he smiled and picked the box up.

“Not just her. The whole family has taken to you too. My father even calls you by your given name.” He threw an arm around his shoulder tugging him closer. “I can't wait til you're officially my brother.” They clicked a toast, setting the glasses down as a shadow cast over them.

_Annnnd it goes from awkward to … well … yeah, that was my bad luck back then. I also couldn't say no, and I really should have, especially since the engagement was the next morning._

A hand clamped on each of their shoulders. “If it isn't my favorite boys!”

Akihito scrambled to grab the ring and conceal it in his jacket pocket, but his fingers fumbled the gesture. Funetaro rolled his eyes and forced a smile. “Hey Dad.”

_Commissioner Momoki, the only guy I ever knew who could simultaneously make you feel welcome and intimidated in the same exact moment. The man was a legend on the force, after all._

“And what do we have here?” He caught the little box before Akihito could squirrel it away. Opening it, his eyes lit up. “A toast is in order. Bartender, a shot of sake for my future son-in-law!”

Akihito blanched, pointing frantically at his beer. “Sir, I uhh … I already have … ”

“Nonsense, this is a moment to properly celebrate.” He sat down on a stool beside Akihito, still holding the open ring box. “I've been waiting for months for you to get up the courage to pull the trigger, boy. This is a huge step and you are about to make my daughter very happy.” He pressed the shot of sake into Akihito's hand and took is own.

Funetaro smiled and held up his sake. “Dad, let's not drink him under the table. Narihisago's a light weight. Tomorrow is his day off, and let me guess … morning picnic?”

Akihito buried his face in his hand.

“You got this. You know her as well as I do. This is a sure bet no matter what happens.”

_I sure did, before the sake burned my throat. If only it had been just one shot. But no … Commissioner Momoki wanted to lecture me on the finer points of marriage. That's all I remember of that night, his start. The rest is a sake-scorched blur. And the next morning? Heaven helped me or else I never would have made it out alive._

Ayako sat on the blanket casting her glance at Akihito. “Are you alright? You look a bit green.”

Akihito couldn't be certain if it was butterflies in his stomach or the stale liquor.

“Wait a minute.” Ayako narrowed her eyes. “Did my father take you out drinking last night? He came home a little tipsy and kept winking at me.”

Bowing his head, Akihito's hand caught on his pocket as he tried to pull the case out. It let go with a tug, and tumbled across the blanket, falling open into her lap. The citrine topaz gleaming up at her in the sunlight, sparkling the color of her eyes. Instantly she froze, staring at the ring in its cushioned cradle. “Oh, Aki … is this … does this mean … you … me ?”

Tongue tied, he nodded. At last stuttering out, “I mean, if you want to … ACK!”

She tackled him in a snug embrace rolling over the blanket and kissing him.

_Both of us were spazzes back then. I just didn't want to be wrong … I didn't want to blow my one chance, even when everyone else was certain it was a sure thing. After all, humans are prone to making mistakes ..._

The dream faded replaced by water lapping against his ankles. He stared down at his toes submerged beneath the surface. A tear dropped in the water leaving behind its telltale ripples.

Kiki's warm hand touched his shoulder from behind, her voice soft and timid. “Did I restore that one right, Akihito?”

He shuddered, realizing what had happened. “I … I can't be sure. I already told you, I have no way of knowing what I recall correctly and what's been tarnished by … my condition.”

Sliding her hand along his collar bone, she came around in front and met his downcast gaze. There she was wearing the strange sensor embedded bodysuit. Not that he looked any more normal standing barefoot in his prison uniform, the one he'd fallen asleep in. Her hand brushed through his hair. “One day I hope I can be sure about your truth.”

He clenched his eyes tight struggling with if he should even dare utter it. “Kiki … I appreciate you intentions … but please, I wish you … wish you wouldn't do this.”

Her touch withdrew.

_Damn it, I just hurt her._

“So—sorry.”

He shook his head. “No … it's ok. I just … I just would prefer it if you would ask me before messing around with precious things. Some of this … it's memories that I'm not sure I want to dwell on at the moment. That's all.”

She wrung her hands. “I want to help you.”

“I know you do.” He opened his arms, inviting her to come into them if she wanted, knowing a semblance of physical contact was one of the reasons she brought him into her consciousness in the middle of the night when he should be sleeping. Well, he was used to insomnia, so the hours she stole from him for a bit of contact didn't change much really. She couldn't reach anyone else like this, only him for some strange reason.

Kiki folded into his embrace, resting against his chest like a child would her father. It felt like Muku. He borrowed that little moment and filed it away for himself. Unlike him, Kiki couldn't wake up from her state. She knew she remained locked in stasis. But the increase of her powers, and Momoki's incomplete resetting of the controls, allowed her access she didn't have before. A way to breach the loneliness. To Narihisago's detriment she took full advantage of it, like a child secretly playing a video game in the middle of the night. 

“I promise I'll find a way to fix you.”

He chuckled. “Well, if anyone can it's you. Just try not to break me any more than I already am in the process, ok? Momoki needs me to be functional in the cockpit.”

She studied his eyes. “But, you're always so sad.”

He sighed and smoothed out her hair. “I know that you think bringing those memories back is … is a good thing. How can I put this? Sometimes that makes things worse. You know when you were released from here?” He gestured to the facsimile of her stasis chamber. “How tasting freedom, what you can't actually have, made it hurt more?” He glanced at his left hand, missing the wedding band that used to be there. “Well, Ayako's not alive anymore. I just have to accept that, as much as I don't want to. My life … it simply … no longer exists.” He cast his eyes down catching his somber reflection. “There's nothing left for me.”

“That's why I want to restore the memories, so you can have it again.”

His heart fractured a bit at her innocent words. “That's … not the way this works. But … thank you for trying.”

“Akihito?” Once more she clung to him, shivering in his embrace. “I don't want you to go. When you are here _they_ can't come.”

“We're not having this talk again. I told you, I can't stay in here. For one, as miserable I am I really don't want to die, and if I do stay I would probably starve to death or something equally as … unpleasant. Besides, Momoki needs me, _not_ comatose. Something tells me that the Mizuhanome would probably malfunction with me rattling around down here with you.”

“But … ”

“No buts. That was the deal. You have to let me go back so I can do my job. So we can both do our jobs.”

She tilted her head back, gazing at him. “Will you stay a bit longer?”

_Damn it, I still can't say no._

_**~ID~** _

Staring up at the dimly lit ceiling, Narihisago heaved a weary sigh. Another rather restless night. Not that he could really blame Kiki. Did she even have a sense of timing anymore? What was a circadian rhythm to someone who never really obtained full consciousness? Probably about as reliable as someone confined to the internal corridors of a building who only recently saw real sunlight for the first time in years because of an unexpected stint in the medical unit. So far she'd been pretty good at nailing night hours, however the first couple times had been a bit dicey. He'd gotten shaken awake by a pissed off guard more than once. Still, when he was with her it felt rather close to a dive, albeit a far less energetic one.

He sat up with a sight groan, rubbing his eyes. In the night-time lighting he glimpsed the pale flash when he looked down. In the middle of his shirt there it was, the damnable reminder. Reaching down underneath he poked his finger through the fraying hole.

What was this? Some kind of sick joke? Why hadn't laundry thrown it away? Sure, by some divine miracle they got his blood out. But was the budget so damned tight they couldn't afford to ditch the shirt he'd been wearing when Hayaseura shot him?

_Bastards._ Of course it was a joke. He'd always been the inside joke of this whole place.  _It takes a psycho to catch psychos._

His fingers worried at the loose threads before he noticed the activity. Loose threads, things to tie up, to make neat. Leave nothing hanging. A virtually lifelong obsession of his in every possible form, that's what made him a good detective. He forced himself to stop, tugging up the offensive shirt to glimpse the divot of skin where the removal incision from the bullet wound had healed just below his rib cage. It didn't really hurt much now. But the fact he would bear this scar for the rest of his life … well, that left an impression.

Out of sight, out of mind. He pulled the shirt back down and leaned over his drawn up knees, curling his toes against the rumpled bed sheet. Was it even worth trying to go back to sleep? Without a window it was impossible to gauge how close it was to dawn, if that was even when they turned the lights on. A clock would be nice. But hell, inmates didn't get much of anything. Not even the option of more than one set of clothing at a time! He huffed a breath.

He looked to his collection of family photos scattered on the wall like leaves on a growing tree … only this tree had stalled, forever frozen in time with all its moments.

The one thing he had to hold onto. Even if he couldn't clearly recall every event … the photos captured them for him. Reminding him at one point it had been real.

“Hey, look who's awake.”

Narihisago stiffened, his gaze inching over through the clear panes to the cell across the corridor. Fukuda sat up on the edge of the bed, a lopsided smile on his scared face as he waved lazily. Ignoring the gesture, Narihisago rammed his chin on his folded arms staring straight ahead—at the toilet. Not his best move. That didn't exactly lift his foul mood. The talk around Kura was how everyone seemed pleased they had discovered a method to reverse the comas. The joke was on them. Their little treatment hadn't done a damn thing. Kiki'd learned a new trick, discovering their dormant consciousness and carefully filtering them back into their waiting bodies.

Fukuda continued in that slow drawl of his. “Have a bad dream or something? I mean, you were talking in your sleep.”

_I was? Shit! What did I say? No. I can't ask him. Shut up and maybe he will. Wait, that has yet to work. Argh!_

“You know, I used to count sheep when I was a kid but that turned out to be a bad idea. It just kept me awake as the damn things multiplied by the flock. You'd think they were rabbits leaping through the field. Big, wooly bunnies exponentially increasing as far as the horizon.”

Narihisago side-eyed him, grating his teeth. Flopping onto his right side he grabbed the pillow and rammed it over his head. But it only muffled the voice, failing to block it out completely.

“There's a few other things that are supposed to work. Something about counting when breathing.” He laughed. “But yeah, I just sort of kept going and forgot to breathe again until I passed out. Guess you could say in hindsight that did work, sort of. You know, if passing out counts as falling asleep.”

“I liked you better in a coma.” Narihisago growled from under his pillow.

“Oh ho! He does speak! That only took me, what, three days? Err, nights? Close enough that I'll take it, thank you very much. Has anyone told you you got a bad attitude?”

His grip on the pillow only tightened. _I swear, I'm not going to do it … I swear I'm not going to end him! Please get me out of this before I do!_

The lights turned on in a series of deep thuds. Narihisago whimpered softly beneath his pillow. There would be no sleeping now. He no longer had the excuse of healing and the guards always had been sticklers for schedules just because they could.

“I gotta wonder if it's just that you take everything too seriously. Or maybe you just need a new perspective. That's it. I bet that's what you need.”

Still under his pillow, he grunted, “Gee, maybe I should try feng shui in my cell. If only I knew which way north was.”

“Now you got the idea, brother.”

Edging out from beneath his refuge, Narihisago fixed him with a venomous glare.

Fukuda's eyes widened briefly before he held his hands up wide. “Ah heh. I thought we were just talking is all … you know a conversation between … friends?”

“What gave you that inane idea?” His voice dripped with acid.

“Ok, jeez, someone woke up on the wrong side of the id well today.”

“Are you going to just talk all damn day again? That's all you've done since you woke up.”

“Making up for lost time.” Fukuda stretched his arms above his head, joints popping in the process. “I gotta admit, I feel rather well-rested.”

With a grunt, Narihisago remarked, “At least one of us does.”

“Have you tried meditation? They say it's supposed to work. Didn't do a thing for me, I just couldn't quite clear my mind.”

Covering his face with his hands, Narihisago's fingers formed claws. _I can't take another day of this! I seriously thought the unending silence in solitary with the ringing in my ears was bad. But it was nothing compared to his incessant droning. Wait … incessant droning? Now .._ _ **there's**_ _an idea._

Narihisago spread his fingers enough that it didn't muffle his voice and started in a monotone, “Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall. Ninety-nine bottles of beer. Take one down, pass it around. Ninety-eight bottles of beer on the wall … ”

Fukuda's eyes twitched. He slowly sunk back on his bed, clutching his knees to his chest before Narihisago made it out of the nineties.

_That'll teach him._

Footsteps echoed down the corridor. There were only two places they could be headed, after all this block only held Fukuda and him. Either way … it could be relief, or breakfast. But there were no squeaking cart wheels. That meant only one thing …

“Alright you, get over here.”

Narihisago peered between his fingers. The pair of guards were looking in his cell. “Oh thank God. Someone is trying to kill somebody.”

The guard's expression darkened. “Man, you got a real screwed up sense of humor.”

“I wasn't trying to be funny.” He slipped his shoes on and wandered to the doorway, hands out in front of him as he reached the transparent barrier.

Fukuda stood by his own door. “Oh, come on, guys! Give me a chance. I haven't been in a well in a long time. Take me.”

Cuffed, Narihisago stepped out into corridor and flashed him a scowl. “Why would they pick you? They want to actually solve the damn thing. Not watch a looped suicide run.”

Flattening his palm on the pane, Fukuda whined, “No fair. At least tell me what it was when you come back.”

Closing his eyes he half smiled, “Not a chance.”

The guard pressed his shoulder blade. “Alright psycho, let's get a move on.”


	2. Chapter 2

Momoki stood beside the empty well projector. The whole system was firing up as the team busied themselves at their stations. Bringing the Mizuhanome's connection up cold always took time. Somehow that wasn't shocking. He had to wonder how monstrous the computer servers that ran this part of the machine were. Certainly Kura was back to running in a solid groove and he was content enough. With Narihisago fully healed, the last wells hadn't been anywhere near as punishing as the Predator's. And that man was still alive in his cell—well away from Narihisago's lethal influence. He had quite the discussion with Kokufu concerning that near miss. Thankfully Soma had come up with a solution swiftly enough. Frankly, if he had his way Soma would have been made the replacement head of security instead of, Tsutomu Itoh, the transferred nitwit who'd taken those reins of overseeing the prison portion.

But of course there was bureaucracy to contend with, and Kokufu wasn't quite ready to make waves yet. Not that Momoki could blame him. Though he had a sound head on his shoulders, he was awfully young for an acting chief. Some scoffed at taking orders from a guy half their age, nitwit among them. They were going to have to get over that. Kokufu was showing aptitude for the position, the bureaucratic nonsense all that remained for him to master.

Togo observed the camera feed from the chamber. “Narihsago's in the cockpit.”

“Good. We're not quite ready yet, stand by.”

“ _Whatever.”_ That melancholy tone seemed typical enough to Momoki.

Wakashika looked up from his readied station as they waited for the well to finish building. “Hey, can I ask Narihisago a question?”

Glancing over his shoulder Momoki waved him onward. Why not, there wasn't anything else going on.

Wakashika rubbed his chin. “So, when you're not in a dive what do you do with your time?”

Narihisago flatly replied, _“Stare at the walls. Not much else to do.”_

“Really? That's gotta be rather boring.”

“ _You've clearly never seen the cell blocks. Not much in the way of luxuries. There's a legit reason for that … ”_

Wakashika scratched his head as Momoki offered a wry grin. That was true, he hadn't been down there yet. Only Kokufu and Togo had entered those corridors, and mainly for the interrogation room closer to that guarded entrance.

“ … _when it only takes a simple bed sheet to end it all.”_

The color drained from Wakashika's face at that stark reply.

“Narihisago.” Momoki cleared his throat. “That wasn't funny.”

“ _Wasn't intended to be.”_

He sighed, and let it go. Not a topic he was particularly comfortable talking about as the memories of the Pyrotechnician's self-strangulated body played behind his closed eyes. He'd been shown the security feed. That was grizzly enough. How the guards on duty had neglected to watch the monitor long enough for that to happen still remained a mystery. However, they were no long employed in the security industry.

Habutae threw his hands in the air in front of his work station. “About time. Seriously, that took way too long. If this is any indication of how this day is going to go, man, I just don't think I want to deal with this shit.”

“ _I'll switch places with you any day of the week.”_

Momoki cocked his head, there'd been a bit agitation in that reply. “You're in a mood today.”

Narihisago sighed, _“Sorry. I didn't get a lot of sleep last night. Fukuda is trying to make friends.”_

“Well, that doesn't sound so bad.”

“ _He hasn't stopped yammering since he came out of the coma. Topic to topic to topic. I used to think the silence would driving me crazy … well, crazi-er. That was until he decided to strike up a conversation.”_

Momoki chuckled. “Why don't you try talking back for once, in a civil way.”

“ _I got a better idea. Can you put him back in a coma please?”_

Cracking a grin, he fought to keep the mirth from his reply. “No, we can't.”

“ _Fine.”_ That was an reply with exhaustive tones. _“At least I discovered one way to shut him up. He hates it when I recite Ninety-nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall.”_

“That's kind of mean. Do you get a kick of prodding people's psychoses?”

A marked silence stretched out overlong.

Momoki suddenly waved a hand in the air. “Wait! Don't answer that.”

“ _I was gonna say, that's probably about the most ignorant question I have heard from you. As for Fukuda, hey, whatever works in a pinch. You have no idea how annoying his constant chatter gets. A dripping faucet would be more welcome company.”_

“I'd ask if you were up to this, but there really isn't a choice. So, you're just gonna have to get over we don't have time to waste on petty arguments.”

A rather long sigh crackled over the speaker.

“What was that for?”

“ _Why ask if you don't care. Can we get on with this?”_

Momoki shook his head, he really was surly today.

Togo cleared her throat. “All systems are online, Director.”

“Alright, Narihisago, you ready?”

“ _Yeah, let's see what rescued me from auditory torture. With my luck it'll be some dick obsessed with talking parrots.”_

Momoki smirked and folded his arms across his chest. “Inject Sakaido.”

_**~ID~** _

Standing in the middle of the stainless steel room, Sakaido could have been watching a tennis match as he looked back and forth. At his feet Kaeru's body lay in a spattering of blood. The cause of death some form of explosive, only a few burnt wires remained. Tethered to each of her wrists had been a bulky key. He now held one in each hand. The room was easily twenty feet wide. As he swung his head from one end to the other, he cocked an eyebrow.

In the center of the end wall a keyhole locked a large sliding panel, behind it a red button. At the other end, the exact same thing. Only, the moment he let go of the key to unlock the other one the panel slid closed. And of course there were no doors out of this place.

_That being the case … how did I even get in here in the first place?_

He reached up toward his forehead, loosely covering one eye as he let the information he'd gathered roll around. “Hitting one button does nothing. Doesn't seem to be a sequence, either. Trying that did nothing. It takes two hands to operate one side, one to hold the spring loaded locking mechanism and one to hit the button. I can't reach the other one unless I let go of the first. Nothing in this room to make it work simultaneous. That's it though, it has to be. Both panels and buttons have to operate in tandem.” His brow furrowed. “But how?”

Stretching his arms out he huffed a breath, disturbing the shock of hair that hung down. “Yeah, I'm a little short on arm length for this one.”


	3. Chapter 3

_**Chapter 3** _

Wakashika leaned on the railing. “He's been going in that circular logic for forty-five minutes. There is nothing else in that room. I'm surprised he hasn't tried propping up Kaeru at one end.”

“Sakaido wouldn't do that.” Momoki scratched an eyebrow. “Ok, I really hate to make this call guys, and I hope I don't regret this.” He took a deep breath and looked to Togo.

Her eyes widened. “Are you really suggesting … ”

“Well, he's not in a coma any longer.”

Wakashika cocked his head. “Seriously? It's a locked room without any doors, and Narihisago's already annoyed with him. How well do you think this is going to go?”

“All he needs to do is take one of the keys and operate the mechanism in tandem. It's not like it will be that difficult.”

Habutae shook his head. “This is Fukuda we're talking about.”

“There's no way he can commit suicide in there.”

“If anyone can figure it out, the screw job will.”

“Alright, that's enough.” Momoki held a hand up. “Remember, this is the same guy who helped Sakaido and Hijirido navigate the wellstorms. It is possible … remotely, that he'll cooperate. Besides, Narihisago will go along with it if I tell him to.”

Shiratake peered through his glasses. “Are you certain?”

The hesitant half-groan that escaped him betrayed his doubt. “Honestly? No, I'm not. But Sakaido can't operate both mechanisms on his own. And Fukuda will have the ability to shorten the process. All he has to do is remind Narihisago who he is, since this isn't his own id well it won't be a problem.”

“Inspector, that's a lot you're asking of him.” Habutae held up a finger.

Wakashika leaned on his elbow, hand bracing his chin as he rolled his eyes. “Which one? Fukuda to cooperate or Narihisago to tolerate him?”

The Wellside staff looked at one another knowingly.

“I'm not really thrilled about this idea either. But I honestly don't have a better one. So … have the second cockpit raised and the guards bring Fukuda to the chamber.” Rubbing the bridge of his nose he shook his head, “And a quick prayer that this doesn't backfire might not be such a bad idea.”

_**~ID~** _

Narihisago opened his eyes back in the cockpit chamber. At least it was a regular extraction, not a death this time. That made it a touch less disorienting.

“ _Sorry for the disruption. But we didn't think this was going to get anywhere. We have an idea on a new approach.”_

“Oh yeah?” He leaned forward as the chamber door opened.

Two guards escorted in the lanky Fukuda who shot him a cocked grin as he sauntered in. “Hey, pal! Guess we get to work together after all!”

Narihisago's tight throat emitted a strained gurgle before he found his voice. “Oh hell no. Momoki, I just need a little more time to figure it out.”

“ _No amount of time is going to matter. Unless you can defy the laws of physics and be in two places at once, there isn't a solution on your own.”_

“We've seen stranger physics breaking in wells.”

“ _Narihisago, just give this a try.”_

He glowered as they removed the cuffs from the seated Fukuda.

“So,” Fukuda shifted back in the second cockpit, “what has my co-pilot been up to?”

Rolling his eyes, he crossed his arms over his chest and stared straight forward.

“ _I mean it. You need a hand. Ask nicely.”_

Narihisago shot a glare at the ceiling. “I can't believe this is your solution. Fine. Stainless steel room, no doors. Two panels, one at either end of a twenty foot span. Two keys, each one opens a panel while the key is held and reveals a button. Current theory, they both have to be pushed at the same time.”

“Aha.” Fukuda pointed three times to his head and winked. “And you need me to go in with that knowledge.”

“Not really. I figured all that out in the first five minutes. What I need you to do a trained monkey could achieve.”

“ _Narihisago. Do you have to be so abrasive? Look Fukuda, it might be helpful to reveal his real identity, just to speed things up. I see no reason not to go right to turning the keys and finding out what those buttons do.”_

Fukuda offered a slow smile edged with mischief. “You got it, pal.”

“Why don't I trust you.” Narihisago cupped his chin, offering a sour smile. “Oh yeah, maybe because of what you first tried to pull in my id well.”

“Ancient history, friend.” He shrugged. “Water … or uhh in your chase, sand under the bridge. I'm just here to lend a helpful hand.”

“We'll see about that.” Settling back into the cockpit, Narihisago sighed. “Alright Momoki, if you're really insisting on trying this, let's get it over with.”

“ _Don't sound so enthusiastic.”_

“Now who's trying to be funny.”


	4. Chapter 4

_**Chapter 4** _

Momoki stared down at the holographic projection of the steel room. His crossed arms concealed the ever tightening fist. If he could reach into the well and cuff Fukuda upside the head he would have done it. The stubborn ass not only kept Narihisago's real identity from him, but he'd argued about the solution before repeatedly letting his hand slip on the key.

“Sir?” Togo watched the points in the well projection. “We're not getting anywhere, it's already been twenty minutes. Is it really worth this exercise in futility? I doubt those two will **ever** truly be able to work together.”

Heaving a sigh, he rubbed his eyes. “Extract them both. We'll have to scrap the run and get Hondomachi here. She and Narihisago will make short work of this even with the amnesia. I can't believe this, it's not like we were even asking that much.”

Wakashika snickered. “Are you overlooking the fact we're working with a serial killer?”

Habutae eyed him. “What does that make Narihisago?”

“Uhh, well … Sakaido is more focused and cooperative. But, yeah, you got a point.”

A commotion outside the door snapped them to attention.

Momoki stiffened. “Was that a gunshot?” He tapped on the line to Kokufu. “Chief?”

Silence. The line was dead. He looked at his phone, no signal.

The emergency lights strobed accompanied by the deep thud of the security lock down mechanism. That system had _never_ activated before.

“This isn't good.” Someone was right outside the door. Breaching it. “Everyone, keep your mouths shut. Let me handle this.”

The door opened to the muzzle of an assault rifle held by a man in combat gear flanked by more. He cracked a grin and flexed his finger by the trigger. “Look what we got here. Ok, nobody move unless I tell you.”

Everyone held their hands up, even on the upper ring.

_**~ID~** _

“Oops. Heh, just call me butter fingers, this panel keeps shutting on me.” Anaido laughed over his shoulder as he shrugged. He savored the frustrated expression on Sakaido's face as he turned from the other end of the room. Certainly he should have said something immediately. But it was far too entertaining watching the fool stew in amnesiatic ignorance.

Why did the Wellside team find Sakaido effective? He was nothing but a blindly obedient dog bumbling around the wells fixating on the tiniest of details. And man, was he stubborn as hell. That didn't mean it wasn't hilarious watching him try to work out the impossible. In fact, it was easy as pie to prod him into doing just that.

“Maybe your key is broken?” Sakaido wandered over and slid it out of the keyhole, examining it closely.

Fukuda's mind wandered. _Four teeth, which meant four pins. Eight._

“Hrm, your key looks undamaged, that's not the problem. Let's try this. Take yours to the other end and see if that panel works. It doesn't look like they are different, but it might be. Could be a chip on the inside that has to match.”

Anaido took it and waved it in the air three times. “Great idea, buddy!” As he moved off, he grinned to himself.

Sakaido searched the ground. “Hey, wait a minute … where did my key go?”

“Uh oh. Don't tell me you lost it.” _Or that someone pocketed it. Heh heh heh._

“I just had it.”

_Perceptive, isn't the brilliant detective. If only he knew how much fun it is to confuse the hell out him. Wonder if I can slip it into his pocket without him noticing._

Suddenly gravity shifted, pulling them upward toward the ceiling. Sakaido scrambled in the air, “What the hell!”

_Damn, looks like someone got sick of my antics. Still, they humored me longer than I thought they would. Good timing, the dang numbers were beginning to build, and they were all boring._

_**~ID~** _

Opening his eyes in the cockpit, Narihisago sat forward with a gasp. Getting pulled wasn't half as bad as actually dying, but it still entailed a short moment of disorientation. They'd been pulled … why? Momoki's order came back to his memory.  _Look Fukuda, it might be helpful to reveal his real identity, just to speed things up._

_That son of a …_ He turned to face the other cockpit prepared to give Fukuda one hell of a chewing out, when Momoki's voice came over the speaker.

“ _Was that a gunshot? … Chief?”_

Silence. Narihisago stiffened. Something was wrong

“ _This isn't good.”_

Fukuda started to chuckle. Snapping his hand up in a gesture for silence, Narihisago held his breath and cocked his head listening to the loud banging. Something was **very** wrong.

“ _Everyone, keep your mouths shut. Let me handle this.”_

Now Fukuda averted his eyes to the ceiling, not a peep from him.

A new voice barked out, _“Look what we got here. Ok, nobody move unless I tell you.”_

Momoki answered sternly. _“This is a restricted area. Who are you and what do you want?”_

“ _Your new commander and chief, suit. What are you looking at, skirt? Oh hey, there's people above me. Ok, all three of you, down the steps where I can see you. Nice and slow like. Good. Join those two. Alright, who's in charge of this op?”_

“ _In this room, I am.”_

“ _Here's what I want, and we'll be making sure you do this right, suit. Call all of security in here. When they arrive they are to hand their arms over to my comrade here. Got it? All of them. Here, now. If anything funny happens you will all regret it.”_

Narihisago swallowed deeply. This didn't sound good at all. The rattle of firearms carried on straps crackled over the speaker.

“ _Everyone take it easy. Togo, do as he asked. Let him watch the key strokes. There's something else that has to happen. I have to open the staircase for access so they can come up and you are standing on it, just step aside from the partitioned area. Yes, you're good there.”_

“ _No games!”_

“ _I promise you, we value the safety of our staff here. There, now everything is unlocked. Security personnel should be up in just a minute.”_

Sure enough Narihisago and Fukuda turned their heads toward their closed door as the cacophony of footsteps passed on by before the corridor outside fell into silence. Then the speaker took over broadcasting the clattering, the surrender of security's arms.

Fukuda stared at Narihisago. Neither so much as uttered a word turning their wide eyes back to the ceiling as though they could see what was happening.

“ _This everyone?”_

Momoki answered firmly. _“Yes. That is all of security.”_

“ _Good. Kura is now officially under my command. All of you follow him. Let's go. Move it! Move it! Sarge, looks like we still have a few active signals, time to kill that.”_

“ _Right away, Commander.”_

They cringed as the speaker squealed its death and then even the low level buzz died leaving behind total silence.

Narihisago stared up at the ceiling, the only sound his slow shuddered breaths as he sat paralyzed in the cockpit. No doubt there was serious trouble outside the door. He knew what he had heard. His eyes darted to the door in question. No guard stood there to give him permission to leave. A sensation not unlike mild electricity jolted him as he even considered the idea. His thoughts stirred themselves into a maelstrom.

_They are in danger. I have to do something._

_This isn't a dive. You aren't Sakaido._

_I have to do something! That doesn't matter … it shouldn't matter._

_But it does. Sakaido is a strong willed, single minded hero able to move freely about his environment while sporting grand, superhuman skills in the pursuit of the truth. Who are **you**? You are Narihisago. An incarcerated criminal. You haven't been permitted to make a choice of your own in years. In this room no one has given you permission to stand, and you know the price of breaking the rules … so you can't. **That** is who Narihisago is. A shattered wreak with questionable self control who has been utterly stripped of autonomy. _

_That's not true!_

_Ah heh, but it is. You're paralyzed, incapable of consciously making a decision after years of being controlled._

_You're wrong … I have made choices. I chose to lock most of my emotions away. That was conscious. I chose to come here, to Kura. I chose to become a Mizuhanome pilot._

_So, you will now choose to be wrestled into the unforgiving concrete, painfully restrained—because you know how the guards just **love** it when you show the faintest initiative, it means your control is slipping in their eyes. They can't take any chances that you'll be nice, because they know what you're capable of when you loose your shit. You'll choose to be thrown into solitary confinement for an undisclosed time, because they never tell you anything. They don't **have** to tell you anything. Because you are not a full human being anymore. Are you even half of one? That's questionable._

_Enough! There isn't time for grappling with bullshit! Momoki is in danger, I heard the nerves in his voice. I heard him trying to hide them. Sakaido's nature to save others? No matter what you say, **that** comes from **me**! _

_Stay put, like a good little prisoner._

_No! I can't do anything if I stay here!_

It was probably the span of less than a minute, but to Narihisago that battle of wills was an eternity too long. He took several shuddering breaths before he overcame the instinctual muscle lock and climbed out of the cockpit still staring up at the ceiling. This didn't feel right, and with every step he fought himself not to turn back and sit down so he would be where he'd been left.

He had to do this. Had to at least see if there was some way to discover what was happening to Kura, no matter the cost. What was he scared of? If he died in the process, then …

“Hrm, no green lights. No power to this thing anymore.” Fukuda edged out of his cockpit as well. “Eh, if I heard that right, this place just got infiltrated. And we got forgotten about. Which means we're pretty much locked in here.”

“As much as I hate to agree with you, I think you're right about the break in. Any way about that, that wasn't a typical interruption.”

“You've never heard anything like that before?”

Narihisago shook his head, hand on the door. “Not in the year I've been here. Only a handful of people have access to the Wellside.”

“How do you know?”

“Momoki explained the number of safeguards in place to keep people from reaching it … normally.” He tugged on the door and it easily inched opened. He backed up as if the door would bite him. _Unlocked?_ _Did not expect that._ Slowly he creapt forward and stuck his head out into the deserted hallway, listening for a moment. A strange sight caught his eyes, curved steps that from his experiences were typically not there. “Well, we're not locked in, which is odd. Usually it **is** locked for dives.” He eyed the door's key panel. _Momoki had said he'd unlocked things. Did that mean_ _ **this**_ _door? On purpose?_

“Cool. Field trip time.” Fukuda started across the chamber.

Pointing at him, Narihisago glared over his shoulder. “You stay here.” He had enough going on in his own head, let alone having to worry about what Fukuda was doing. After all, this was the man responsible for injuring Hondomachi.

“Aww, come on! You're not just going to leave me in here.”

“Yes. I am.” Came his acidic reply. “To put it into four words,” he counted them on his fingers for emphasis, “I. Don't. Trust. You.”

“Four is such a blah number. But anyway, why not?”

He eyed him sideways. “You have to ask? You didn't even follow Momoki's directions in the id well.”

“But … ”

“You're not stupid, Fukuda, why do you insist on acting like a frustrating moron? Now stay!”

Fukuda's shoulders slouched forward as he put his hands in his pockets.

Edging out into the corridor Narihisago moved slowly, ghosting toward the silent staircase. This felt all wrong, the electrical crawl down his nerves threatened to drive him back to the safety of compliance. But if he did … something told him that despite the debate he didn't really have much of a choice here anyway. If the others were taken from the building and he simply waited in the chamber indefinitely for a command that would never come? _I hope I read this situation right and Momoki meant for me to do this … or else I may find myself permanently in solitary confinement. Not exactly a comforting prospect._

Step by painstaking step, he climbed the winding staircase. No wonder why he had never glimpsed a door leading out of the cell block floors. The damn thing was in the ceiling. Only now that he was passing through without his gaze permanently glued to the floor, did he spot the sliding panels that raised and lowered the cascade of the steps. Clever. This would seal off the cell blocks entirely. No control panels on the walls here. He doubted there was a way to open the passage from below, preventing prisoners from escaping. He'd never been on this particular staircase though, so there had to be another passage to the cell block from the parking garage. Of course, if memory served him right, those stairs had also emerged from similar panels in the wall, he just hadn't been particularly observant the day he'd arrived. It really had been a very secure facility from this end of things.

Cautiously he poked his head up into the large circular chamber. It was vacant, but sure enough this had to be the Wellside room. A huge cylindrical chamber reached upward several stories toward narrow windows where what he assumed was daylight poured in. In the center a 3D holographic ring projector hung suspended from a wire cradle, the space currently empty. On the upper rim more stairs lead up to a series of darkened work stations. Scuff marks on the floor revealed where most of the activity happened. He could easily guess where Momoki stood.

He picked up a discarded tablet and hit the power button. It was dead. _Hrm, I'm guessing some form of EMP. With all the sensitive equipment it must take to run this place, that's a bad sign._ It was useless now. Discarding it, he turned to the door.

“Whoa! Would you look at this setup!”

Narihisago spun around to the staircase and snapped at Fukuda. “I know I told you to stay put!”

With his hands in his pockets he offered a lazy grin. “I can't say I hadn't thought about it. Then I decided I'm really not a dog.”

“This isn't a game, Fukuda. Actual lives are potentially in danger, death doesn't have a reset button on this side. Go back down there and wait. Now!”

“Uhhh, nah. Besides,” he slouched, “you can't really make me.”

Narihisago flexed a fist for a moment before he released it with a grunt. He couldn't just hit him and knock him out. Nothing to tie him up with. _Damn my ill luck._ “Pain in the ass. You can't just go wandering around Kura.”

He scratched his chin with his middle finger. “Why not? Looks like you intend to.”

“I'm not going to wander aimlessly.” Narihisago narrowed his eyes, fighting the urge to do something about that rude gesture. There were more important things than breaking his finger. “I'm going to find out what happened to the Wellside team.”

Fukuda chuckled. “Hate to point the obvious out to you, pal, but you do realize you're helping the guys that are holding you captive. Seems a little dim-witted.”

“Dim-witted would be taking life decision advice from a guy who drilled a hole in his own head.”

Closing the distance in his casual slouch, Fukuda slapped a hand on Narihisago's shoulder. “You got a point there, friend.”

He flinched, jaw clenching as his eyes shifted down to the hand before shrugging it off roughly. “First off, I am **not** your friend. Second, touch me again and I will personally put you back in a coma!”

“Jeez, tetchy are we? I was just trying to … ”

“I don't have time for your asinine bullshit.” He pointed to the door below the upper platform. “Since you won't stay put and I don't have time to drag your ass back to the cells, you're gonna be where I can keep an eye on you.”

Fukuda scratched the scarred side of his face. “I really gotta ask, I'm reading some kind of strange loyalty to this Momoki guy. Not that mister frowny-face isn't … heh heh heh, my experiences with him don't stir a desire to go find him. But you, that's what you're worried about. Yet, Momoki is the one who sent you into solitary after … ”

Narihisago grabbed his collar and shoved him out the door. “You **really** don't know when to shut it. Now move, drill bit!”

“Oooo, solid burn.”


	5. Chapter 5

Wakashika gestured toward the door. “Habutae, give me a hand here.”

The two grabbed onto the solid wood conference room door and tried to wrench it open. Even gritting their teeth didn't alter facts. After a full minute of wrestling they released it and backed away, panting. Habutae shrugged his shoulders. “Well, they thoroughly locked us in here. No doubt about that.”

Shiratake eyed them. “I want to see Wakashika try and ram the door like an action hero again.”

Rubbing his shoulder, he grunted. “I thought it would work. It always does in the movies.”

“The door opens inward.”

“I know that—now.”

Standing by the window, Momoki stared outside ten stories below to the ground level. Nothing looked amiss outside the front of the building. No one would know anything was wrong in the secure facility. With the phones dead and all things electrical disrupted, they had no access to any form of communications.

Cut off. Strategically.

And worse, he had no idea where they had taken all of security. Without much conversation, they had shoved the Wellside crew into this conference room and abandoned them here.

Shiratake and Togo heaved tandem sighs as they both took seats.

“Momoki,” Togo caught his attention, “what do you think this is about?”

But it was Wakashika who answered before he could collect his thoughts properly. “A bunch of wannabes playing soldier? Good question. They do know how to barricade a door, though.”

Shiratake rested his head in a hand. “We know they have security corralled too. Do you think they have everyone else in the building secured?”

In the silence Togo turned her gaze to Momoki. “Sir … I have to ask … ”

He gave the minutest of head shakes. He didn't want to get anyone's hopes up. Frankly he had no idea if Narihisago even possessed the initiative to overcome the conditioning of his years in prison. Aside from the moments when he lost his self control and burst into a fit of rage, he'd been entirely listless unless given an order. Their only hope at this point could still be seated in the cockpit, waiting, for all Momoki knew.

Her eyes shifted for a moment, searching for a tangent. “Chief Kokufu? Do you think they have him too?”

Good. She caught his vibe. “Hard to say. But to get even close to gaining access to the Wellside floor they would have needed a clearance pass. Given how few in the building have that … ” Yes, the chances were beyond reason that they had already seized Kokufu, which is how they had known how to reach the Wellside. No one had accompanied them, but he was fairly certain he had seen the pass card in the commander's hand. Not just anyone's, but the Chief's. “I hope he's ok.”

Wakashika paced along the edge of the room. “What we need is a plan to get out of a locked room.”

“Great,” Shiratake peered through his fingers. “We not only have a squad of make-believe soldiers, but you're going to play brilliant detective.”

“Have a bit of confidence in me. I mean, the door is obviously out.” He rubbed his shoulder. “But there are things like air ducts.” Climbing up onto a chair, he reached for the vent cover.

“And which part of you is going in there?”

Wakashika blinked. Leaning back he realized that the duct wasn't much bigger than the spread of his hand. Crestfallen he slumped down in the chair.

“Yeah.” Shiratake folded his hands and let his chin rest on them. “This isn't an action film. This is reality. And we are stuck.”

“Sure, just burst my bubble, why don't yah.”

_**~ID~** _

Pausing at the corner, Narihisago listened for the span of at least a minute, keeping his breathing as quiet as possible.

Fukuda snickered and walked past him, shoes slapping the hall floor.

“What are you doing!”

“Hurrying this up.” Fukuda shrugged a shoulder. “You are way too cautious about this.”

“Too cautious? This isn't a dive with a reset. We're in a building that's been taken over by a bunch of guys armed with large guns, likely automatics.”

“And you saw that from the cockpit?”

“No, of course not.” Narihisago folded his arms. “I heard them rattling on the carrying straps.”

“I thought you were an ex-cop.” His eyebrow quirked. “How'd you get military experience?”

“I've heard it in the well dives, alright? It's pretty distinct. But that doesn't even matter. They're heavily armed. I don't know about you, but how many bullets can you dodge?”

A twisted grin grew on Fukuda's lips. “Well, we know you can't even dodge one.”

Narihisago's eyes widened. He followed Fukuda's finger pointing to the hole in his shirt. “Tch!” Grabbing the shirt, he roughly tucked it into the tied sleeves of his jumpsuit as far as he could. The gesture proved utterly pointless as the hole was too high and refused to remain concealed. Giving up in a huff, he turned and stalked off.

“What? It's true. Oh come on, I was just joking.”

He didn't want to even hear it. And now his own steps echoed down the empty corridor. _Damn it!_

“Does it still hurt?”

Glancing over his shoulder, he grumbled, “Not really since it's healed. Now would you just shut up so we don't get shot. Or do you really want another hole in you?”

“You know, you're right. That would really put a damper on the day.”

Covering his eyes with a hand, Narihisago groaned. _The day? More like weeks or maybe an eternity, because of being dead!_

“Hrm, would you look at this.”

That came from behind him, which meant he'd stopped. Turning around Narihisago found him studying a plaque on the wall. Backtracking he discovered a large blueprint-esque diagram of the building. Narihisago's eyes widened. “Holy shit. Is **that** how big this building is?”

Fukuda pointed to a spot in the diagram on the first basement floor. “And this is where we entered the less secure areas on display here. Haha, wow, this really is the ultimate definition of living in a basement. Waaay in the basement. I had no idea that's where the cell blocks were. And of course, none of **that** super secret area is on this helpful little signage.”

“Yeah.” Narihisago studied the complicated structure. “That's the whole idea behind _no one is supposed to know it even exists_.”

“About as secretive as Area 51. Might as well have a big sign that says, 'Nothing to see here, folks, move along'.”

Ignoring his banter, Narihisago traced his finger over the floors. “Lots of typical rooms. Data Acquisitions, File Processing, Conference Rooms, Laboratories, Medical Unit which turns out is kinda big. Heh, even a morgue out back on ground floor, who knew. Offices on the upper stories. It's funny, but they're also concealing the location of the main server room. That's gotta be around here somewhere, no way that's tucked in a little closet. Wouldn't be surprised if that was its own floor.”

Narihisago realized he felt rather alone. Darting around he discovered Fukuda was no longer lingering beside him. _Where did he go, now?_

The click of a door latch caught his attention. The second he read the door label a white hot surge of panic stabbed him in the chest. He raced down the hall and shoved Fukuda bodily from entering, slamming the Maintenance Closet door in the process. Landing haphazardly on top of him, Narihisago held him down as he protested, “Oh come on! I was just looking for stuff to help us out.”

“You think I'm falling for that? I know damn well what's in that closet. And if you think I'm going to let you get your hands on a drill you're more screwed up than I thought.”

The crocked smile on his uneven face told the whole story. Narihisago had, in fact, just dodged a bullet.

Furrowing his brow, Narihisago stood up and hauled him to his feet. “Yeah, that confirms it. Get moving. Obviously this floor is clear or someone would have come out with that bang.”

As they walked along side by side Fukuda eyed him, rubbing his chin. “You know, you do a really lousy job at shaving.”

Absently, he ran a finger over the stubble. Belatedly realizing he'd mirrored the gesture, Narihisago forced his hand down to his side and trudged up the stairwell. “Who's your hairstylist? Ryobi?” The footsteps dropped to only one set, Narihisago decided he was done babysitting. _Let security round his ass up._

It took a moment, but Fukuda's steps caught up to him, a hand covering the scarred up side of his face. “That … was kind of harsh.”

“Payback.” Narihisago fingered the hole in his shirt. “You don't like it? Stop pestering me. I got a job to do.”

“I'm just trying to have a conversation.”

“This isn't the time for idle chatter if you want to live.”

His steps paused again.

_What now?_ Narihisago halted and looked down the few steps below where he stood looking at his hands.

“Do you really think there's still value to our lives?” There wasn't that half grinning delivery this time.

That wasn't the worst of it. Narihisago lingered there, lost in thought, discovering that in a hollow void … he couldn't find an answer to that. Not even a smart ass one. Slowly his shoulders fell as he turned to resume the climb, muttering, “Let's get going.”

By some miracle a second set of footsteps followed his, he didn't have the heart to look back.

On the landing they paused. “Great, another floor just like the others.” Narihisago wandered down the empty corridor passing by the open doors. Until one caught his attention. Shut, with a lock forced on the outside.

“That's not right. The doors have their own locking mechanisms.”

Muffled voices carried through the heavy door. Instantly he knelt down, studying the lock. It was a typical heavy duty key hole. A sharp tug on it did nothing. There'd been the off chance that it hadn't been completely latched. He wasn't that lucky.

It would have to be picked. He gripped his chin, crouched and staring as though the lock would reveal its secrets.

“Ahem. Oh brilliant detective, you got a sudden fancy for mentalism or are you gonna do something about that?”

Glancing up to Fukuda over his shoulder he sighed. “I uhh … ”

He smiled knowingly. “You don't know how to pick a lock, do you.”

“Of course I don't.” Narihisago looked at the floor. “I've never done it.”

Crouching down, Fukuda pushed him out of the way. “Move over.” Using his teeth he worked several dents into two straightened paperclips.

Narihisago gawked. “Where did you get those?”

He pointed to an open conference room. “In there, while you were pointlessly staring a hole in the lock.” Impromptu tools finished, he inserted them into the lock, murmuring, “I know something you don't know.”

“Oh yeah? Well, I know lock-picking is illegal. How did you come by this little skill?”

“Wow, you don't know? I thought you were such a keen eyed ex-cop. How do you think I set up my little hideouts around town? You think people just invited me in? Nah. I just used this little trick … and … ” click, the lock opened. “Presto! Access granted.”

Narihisago's eyes widened as he scrambled to catch the lock tossed at him.

“By the way, you're welcome. Now that I helped out, I'll just be on my way.”

“Thanks.” Narihisago grabbed the collar of his jumpsuit. “But you're not going anywhere.”

“One question, what if that's where security is?”

“Then our field trip is over and we get to go quietly back to the cell block and leave this in their hands.” Narihisago opened the door, holding his breath and sincerely hoping it wasn't security he had overheard. They wouldn't have their guns. But that wouldn't stop them from wrestling two roving inmates into the floor. He peeked around the door. Inside he found five worried pairs of eyes scattered around a conference room staring at the door, awash in instant relief.

“Oh hey, Momoki … I hope I got your message right. Either that or I'm probably in deep shit about now.”

Momoki heaved a sigh. “Glad to see you, Narihisago.”

Wakashika stiffened. “Wait, if he's up here … wasn't he with … oh no!”

Dragging the taller man into the room at an awkward angle by the collar of his jumpsuit, Narihisago gestured to Fukuda. “You mean him? Yeah. He's loose too.” Pushing him toward a chair, Narihisago ordered, “Now sit and stop messing with shit.”

“You know, I told you I wasn't a dog.”

Narihisago and Momoki shouted in stereo, “Sit!”

Instantly Fukuda slumped into the chair, draping his arm over the back he heaved a sigh. He wasn't the only one to be surprised by the tandem impact. The Wellside crew blinked and glanced between the two of them.

Habutae stood watch by the door, glancing out every now and again for signs of anyone coming back their way in the deserted hall.

“Ahhh, director?” Wakashika made an abysmal effort to keep his voice down as he pointed at Fukuda in an poor attempt to hide it. “This is not good at all. I mean, we got a serial killer out of the cell block.”

“A … ?” Fukuda scratched his chin while eyeing Narihisago.

Momoki held up a hand. “Honestly, I am impressed that he made it this far alive.” It was his turn to eye Narihisago.

Under the weight of that stare, Narihisago put his hands in his pockets and shrugged. Eyes downcast, he trudged over toward the window. His gaze drifted toward the golden daylight streaming in.

Edging away from Fukuda, Wakashika meandered closer to Narihisago studying him up and down as he leaned against the windowsill idly gazing outside. “Hey, uh … you really don't look like your old picture. What's with the skate park reject look?”

Narihisago cocked his head, eyes narrowing lazily. “Are you color blind or did you get dressed in the dark this morning?” As Wakashika looked away, hastily scratching the back of his neck, he continued. “You do realize inmates don't get much in the way of choices, if any at all.” He tugged on the tied jumpsuit sleeve, both main pieces of clothing labeled with Kura's logo—effectively marking him as property. “If you're like a typical guy on the force, you have a closet full of suits and ties to chose from. I only get what I'm wearing at the time. You think if I had a choice of shirts I would have picked this particular one—ever?” He stuck his finger through the hole.

More than one staffer flinched at that. Fukuda had the grace not to look up.

“Oh yeah, I guess not. It's just that … well …” Wakashika pointed nervously to Fukuda, “he wears it differently, you know, normal?”

Fukuda leaned back, a puzzled expression on his face as he looked at the unrolled sleeves and pant legs. A slow triumphant smile spread.

Uninterested in pursuing it further, Narihisago let his gaze wander out to the rays of sunlight. The warm glow against his bare arm distracted him. Up in the medical unit he had been able to see it while confined to bed rest, but they hadn't taken him close enough to feel the heat.

Too long. Too long since there had been anything real. He struggled to recall anything not artificial … what did a real breeze feel like? What season was it? Would there be a chill in the air or was it hot and humid? Were the birds singing? Memories cascaded like leaves dancing in the wind … Ayako kneeling on the picnic blanket, the ring shimmering in the sunlight. Absently he worried the base of his left ringer … empty. It felt so wrong.

Gradually he became aware of the rapt silence of the room. He turned to find Momoki a few feet away, much closer than before. Momoki wasn't the only one paying him undue attention. “Why is everyone looking at me?”

“Narihisago? Did you even hear a thing I said?”

With a sigh, he ran a hand through his hair. Compromising, he faced him, but kept one arm back soaking in the sunlight.

“What is wrong with you today?”

Narihisago flexed a hand. “Good, you are paying attention. I mean, you _are_ all standing in a room with a guy who's usually cuffed outside of a cell with very few exceptions. And I'm not talking about him.” Gesturing to Fukuda he shook his head. “You know, there's a reason I moved to this side of the room. To give you all a clear shot at the door … just in case.”

Stiffening, Momoki took a step closer. “Why do you bring crap like that up? Do you enjoy reminding me?”

“No.” He narrowed his eyes. “I don't want you to **forget** and get careless.”

“Fine. Tell me, are you alright?”

He paused, deep in thought. After a short delay, he nodded. “At the moment, yeah. But … you know how fast that can change, … it's a minute by minute thing. One word, one wrong visual; changes everything. And you're not the only one who knows that … ” he glanced at Togo. “So does she.”

Togo gripped her hands, making a professional effort not to let the lingering fear show.

“I'm sorry if I scared you that day.” There it was again, an edge to his voice. He bit it off and shook his head. He couldn't even put his finger on it. Was it frustration at his own failure at self control?

Creasing his eyes, Momoki studied him. “No, this is something different. You're usually not this ornery. Seriously, what's with you?”

Narihisago sighed and looked off to the side, his ring finger twitching, Momoki's eyes shifted to catch the weird tick. “Just … something that happened last night … it's nothing, really.”

Momoki's brow crinkled, a swift sign of apology for pressing. So he had picked up on the depth of the distraction. “As I said, we're not sure what we're up against. Didn't catch any names, and no identification marks on their gear. We have no idea where security is, and even if we did, they seized all their arms. Clearly they were well organized to have reached the restricted floors.”

“They came in well armed, too.”

He nodded. “Not even going to ask how you knew that.”

“Clip rattles. From the straps. We've had more than one run in with military id wells. You don't forget that kind of detail when you're evading it. Let me guess, automatics?”

Shiratake didn't lift his head as he added, “Howa Type 89.”

“Yup. Military.” Narihisago nodded. “Checks out with their banter too. Course, the question is why they'd target here?”

“Very few people outside of Kura even know about it. Most just know it's a law enforcement division and not much more.”

“Doesn't mean someone didn't talk about it. Having seen how large this organization is there's no way it's a total secret. This building doesn't exactly have a subtle footprint.”

“What are we worried about?” Wakashika grinned gesturing to Narihisago. “We got you up here. So, we just send you in and have you go all Sakaido on them!”

Narihisago cocked his head glancing between him and Momoki. “That's not a thing, is it? Tell me that is seriously not a thing.”

Everyone remained silent.

At length he shrugged. “Hate to be the disappointment of the day, but the majority of that is just on the other side of the dives. I don't actually possess most of those skills.”

Wakashika held his hands out. “Oh come on. Seriously? You can't actually kick ass?”

Narihisago shook his head.

“But how … ?”

“It's less complicated than it seems. When you were a kid, ever had a dream where you flew a fighter plane in combat?”

“Well yeah, everybody has.”

“Fought in a martial arts contest and beaten the previous champion?”

“Uhh, yeah.”

“Went into outer space and walked on the moon? … without a space suit?”

Wakashika's jaw hung loose.

Narihisago held up a hand. “People do all sorts of unreasonable things in their dreams despite the years it would require to build those skills, or even a basis on reality.” He paused, his head lowering as he touched the white bracelet. “Even if I had been able to … _kick ass_ at one time, I've been incarcerated for like three years. Skills like that require some major upkeep.”

“Aww man, and here I thought you could actually do all that shit.”

Momoki interjected, “Nope. Back in his detective days, Narihisago was mainly known for his keen intellect.”

He eyed Momoki. “Which reminds me, what idiot programmed that nonsense into the Mizuhanome... _brilliant detective_? Talk about arrogance. Even Holmes wouldn't have set a foot down that road.”

Lifting a hand Momoki half closed his eyes, “And his offhanded remarks. Now shut up, Narihisago.”

He mumbled, “You aren't the one forced to say that dive after dive.”


	6. Chapter 6

Commander Tooru Hirai sat behind the desk, his hand rested on his automatic military rifle lying across his lap. He stared calmly, too calmly for Kokufu's comfort. With his hands secured behind his back, Kura's acting chief sat on the floor in the corner where he'd been shoved quite some time ago after the door to his office had been reduced to splinters. He hadn't had a chance to get his handgun from the hidden desk draw before the muzzle of that automatic rifle had been thrust into his face.

How could this be happening? It had been just another day until that moment. Now, he had no idea what was going on beyond his office. How could someone have possibly broken in and seized control of everything? Kokufu had only caught the man's name because of a careless call through an EMP protected walkie talkie, another thing he had learned.

Keeping his mouth shut had paid off, for a while Hirai had forgotten about him.

After grabbing Kokufu's pass badge, Hirai had left him under guard and vanished for about an hour, time was hard to gauge. When Hirai had returned with his chest puffed out, he flopped into the desk chair and picked up the nameplate.

“Chief Shirou Kokufu, so you're the one running this joint. Funny, that ain't the name I was expecting, and you ain't half as old as I was expecting neither.”

Kokufu met his gaze. “I took over recently. Now, I'm sure whatever you want, we can make an arrangement.”

“Kura? Make an arrangement?” He snorted a laugh. “That's your inexperience talking, suit. And frankly, that's the bull crap bureaucracy beaten into white-collar civies like you. I'm not here to negotiate.”

 _Don't rile him up. Keep it calm and slow._ “There must be something you are after.”

Slowly he smiled. “You could say that.” His knee jostled the firearm. “I'm here to file a grievance.”

A crackle over the walkie talkie caught his attention. _“Commander? Everything is set now._ ”

“Everything?”

“ _Yes, sir. What are your orders for the pigeons?”_

Hirai stroked the trigger of his gun. “They are nothing but clay to us now.”

“ _Confirming order, did you say they are both clay pigeons?”_

“Confirmed.”

“ _Copy that.”_

A scuffle broke out followed by a distant voice screaming, _“No wait! God, you wouldn't be here without us! This wasn't the deal! Hold on—there's something more you need to know! There's this guy—”_

_**BANG! BANG!** _

Two successive thuds, then silence.

“ _Objective completed, sir.”_

Kokufu's eyes widened as Hirai set the walkie talkie onto the desk and watched him with steel cold eyes. Hirai tapped his gun. “What a shame. But at least they served a good purpose. Target practice. Now, what was that about making arrangements? I hope you've made yours—for a funeral.”

_**~ID~** _

“Focus everyone.” Momoki stood at the front of the conference room, the useless screen behind him. He glanced at each in turn. Habutae leaned against the door frame keeping an eye out into the hall. Togo and Shiratake both sat at a table close to the middle of the room, watching him. Fukuda reclined in the chair near the door, studying his fingernails and picking at them idly. Wakashika remained near the center of the room, his eyes playing tennis between the two inmates, his anxiety on his sleeve. Still leaning against the window, soaking in the sunlight pouring through, Narihisago remained with his head bowed, gaze following the tracing of the light on the floor. Momoki felt the weight in their situation as he spoke, “We might be the only ones with access to the building. We don't know much about what's going on, but we need to treat this like a dive. So, let's start piecing things together.”

Wakashika held onto an elbow, eyeing the silent Narihisago as though expecting him to speak up. When he didn't, Wakashika took a long breath. “Well, we know they are seriously armed, likely from the military because they have the gear and restricted weapons. There are no distinguishing marks on their uniforms. Those were in fact uniforms of some sort.”

From the door, Habutae added, “Wish we had a chance to search for active files. But I have to say one thing, that gear is older. Not just because of the wear, but the style. There were some redesigns that went into effect a few years back. Can't put my finger on it without checking, but they aren't current issue.”

Shiratake leaned back in his chair. “That would mean they're posers and got it from surplus, or it's older equipment from their own active days.”

“But the main question is how would they have known about the Wellside?” Togo glanced up. “There are office workers who have been here from the first days that don't know about the Mizuhanome other than the term.”

Narihisago didn't look up as his voice intruded into the conversation. The team jumped, not used to him being in the room, they'd more or less forgotten him. “That's easy. Someone who would have known about it broke the nondisclosure agreement.”

Togo blinked. “No one working here would do that.”

He slowly crossed his arms. “No one _currently_ working here. Have you thought about those no longer employed here? What would they have to lose?”

Momoki's brow creased. “That's a short list.”

“I'll make it shorter for you.”

“Wait, you know who breached? How?”

He locked eyes with Momoki, that sly tired smile on his face. But before he could even say it, Fukuda remarked dryly, “Where are the guards who were on duty the night Narihisago pushed the Pyrotechnician into suicide?”

Slowly, Narihisago turned his gaze to Fukuda and offered a raised hand. “That. Right there.”

“You noticed?”

Fukuda reclined in the chair, looking almost like a teenager trying to appear cool. The effect failed because of his scar. “I can't say that should be surprising. What else do we have to pay attention to down there but the few things that change in our stagnant environment. The guard's shifts are one of a few constant changes.”

“He's right.” Narihisago offered him a begrudging nod. “Momoki, you were still rather pissed at me, so we never really talked about the repercussions after I was released from solitary to tease out the gravedigger copycat. My guess would be they were fired for their lapse. It's not like I can turn a killer's drive in an instant. It took quite some time for him to … ”

“Narihisago! Do you really think now is a great time to describe that.”

He bowed his head, cupping one of side of his face before dropped the hand. “Fair enough … you get my point.”

“Yes.” Momoki released the tension in the fist he didn't realize he'd been making. “Yes, they were fired before their next shift. But the NDA should protect Kura.”

“Should. But if you knew a powerful secret and were angry enough about at the organization hiding that secret, what would you do?”

“I would never—”

“Ok, **you** wouldn't. But, put yourself in the place of a shallow bastard unwilling to take responsibility for losing your job because you were slacking?” Narihisago's motionless gaze had a weighty effect, boring into Momoki. “It's just a theory, but since I've had the chance to walk through the access to the Mizuhanome's Wellside, cell block security would know the access pathway because they have it. It adds up, even from our limited perspective.” He gestured toward Fukuda, who blinked in response.

“Traitors. But … that still leaves us with motive. Damn it, I wish we had access to his id well.”

“Would make it easier.” Studying the sunlight tracing across his foot, Narihisago edged up, rubbing his stubbled chin. “Wait … I think we did. Two keys, two mechanisms purposefully placed far apart.”

Fukuda gave a short laugh. “The only way to make them work was two minds committed to it in tandem.”

“And where do we see that safeguard the most?” He snapped his fingers.

By some miracle Narihisago and Fukuda's replies came in perfect unnerving monotone stereo. “Military weapons of mass destruction.”

Momoki tensed.

Narihisago tapped his forehead with a finger. “Where were those cognition particles collected from?”

Togo stood up. “About a mile from the building.”

“Probably while he was doing his final planning. Yeah, I'd bet that was him.” Pushing off from the windowsill, Narihisago continued to tapping. “That symbolism … two minds committed to a serious, no-going-back decision. That is anything but a good sign. That means th … ” In mid stride Narihisago's eyes rolled backward.

Catching motion, Momoki spun to try and intercept as Narihisago's body lost all its tension, rather like someone had switched off the signals. In a mad dash he halfway caught the weight as Narihisago collapsed to the floor, completely limp. “Shit! What happened?”

Everyone raced closer, even Fukuda lingered at a distance, only Habutae remained by the door stealing frantic glances. “Guys, did he just have a stroke?”

“Narihisago, are you alright? Answer me!”

“Wait!” Togo leaned closer. “His eyes. Watch, see that pattern? He does that in a dive!”

“A dive? But that's impossible outside of the cockpit.”

Fukuda cleared his throat. “Uhh, are we forgetting about the little 'incident'?” He did air quotes around the final word.

Momoki locked eyes with him. “But, the rest of us are awake. When that happened it spread indiscriminately. How can this be … ?” He wanted to check Narihisago's pulse, but his hand wouldn't out of fear of jarring him out of it if this was a form of a dive.

“No clue. But uh, don't worry about touching him. If he's right about the whole parallel to dreams stuff, he won't be easily awakened. The guy talks in his sleep a fair amount and trust me, the guards have had a bitch of a time getting him out of a similar state before. I've seen them pick him up and shake him before his eyes opened.” He snickered. “Oh you should see how scared they are when they do it. Some schmuck gets volunteered for the task and practically shits his pants.”

Cautiously, Momoki put his finger to Narihisago's neck, counting. “Slightly elevated, but steady.”

“Heh, considering he's probably confused as fuck, elevated sounds normal.” Fukuda cocked a knowing grin. “Or there's another reason.”

All eyes glanced to him and the oddly amused grin twisting his face.

Fukuda shrugged and tapped his forehead three times. “Told you, the dude talks in his sleep. Oh, and you might not want to be leaning over him when he comes to, unless you want a concussion. He tends to sit bolt upright rather quickly. ”

_**~ID~** _

Thrashing in the water, even though it was only above his ankles, Akihito struggled to flip over and push himself up out of the grip. Coughing and gagging, he shouted, “Kiki! You can't pull that shit when I'm awake! I was standing up. You could have killed me. What if I hit my head when I collapsed?”

Kiki ran to him, eyes wide in a panic. “Akihito! There isn't time.” She grabbed onto his arm, tugging frantically. “There's a man in the building!”

He heaved a sigh, rubbing the dripping water from his face. “Yeah, tell me something I don't know.”

“No!” Her tugging became more frantic, harder. “You don't know the half of it!”

“Stop yanking my arm off, Kiki. Why did you bring me here?”

“To warn you, everyone is great danger.” She took his hands and gripped them together. “Akihito, you have to do something!”

“Easy now. Slow down so I can follow you.”

Tears welled in her eyes. “You have to stop him before he blows up the building with everyone locked inside it!”

His eyes widened. The id well … the two buttons. Weapons of mass destruction. _Oh shit! Kura was ground zero!_

“I didn't know how else to reach you. I'm sorry.” She tightened her grip, nails digging into his skin. “But there isn't time. Look, you have to see! Look!”

The watery field vanished replaced by war-torn ruble. Soldier boots pounded the crumbling world. More than one squad roaming the pits of hell and wallowing in their unleashed desires. The acts that played out were vile enough to chill the blood. Akihito stared at them as they posed for photos in the bloody landscape …

_Koji Huyukawa! The Pyrotechnician. But … he's dead. This can't be a reflection of his id well. This wasn't actually in his id well._

In a flash the vision changed. Photos held up in a court martial hearing showing the atrocities of war. Huyukawa up on the stand, animatedly defending another squad. He held up photos he had taken of them.

Kiki tugged on Akihito's arm and pointed to the man in uniform at the defendant table. “Commander Tooru Hirai.”

A General crossed the floor and ripped his rank and name badge from his uniform, followed by tearing the same from the remaining nine men who stood behind him.

Narihisago gasped. “Disbanded. All ten of them. The whole squad!”

She nodded. “They'd been caught for war crimes … but Hirai doesn't remember it that way. It's been replaying over and over and over again.” She gripped his arm, hugging it tight.

Before them the squad sat in a bar looking up to him as a shining hero, Huyukawa in their midst as though he were part of the adjacent squad after the loss of his own. The edges of the bar faded to nothing … a vast empty world. Nothing else … and then, in a flash … Huyukawa vanished. The squad panicked, driven into a wild frenzy, reducing their world to splinters in their search. At long last, Hirai stood in the burning halls of Kura, staring into the heavens as the fires consumed him surrounded by nine bodies.

His mouth ran dry as he tried to blink. “That man has no imagination. It's all … literal.”

“Akihito!” Kiki's hand gripped the back of his neck, pulling his head down. “I'm sorry … but _you_ have to stop him!” She pressed her other hand to his forehead and in a strange fast forward he zipped through the hallways up to the chief's office where Hirai stood, waiting with the bomb in his hand, insanity blazing in his eyes.


	7. Chapter 7

Narihisago surged upright gripping his head for dear life. It felt like someone had cleaved it wide open with an ax, an experience he'd had unfortunate id well run ins with.

“Fuck! The cockpit definitely has a built-in buffer! Owww!” That had to be what the sequence of odd images the flashed by at the beginning of every dive. Blinded by the pain, he clenched his eyes tight, hissing each breath. Even behind closed eyelids his world pitched and spun. A sudden presence forced him to look up. A horrible mistake, he doubled over. “Momoki—please don't do that! Give me a minute!”

By a fraction, he did back up, his hand still hovering over Narihisago's shoulder. “Are you alright?”

“Just … fine … ” he hissed sarcastically, “for having my consciousness ripped from me while I'm awake. I'm usually asleep when Kiki pulls this stunt.”

Fukuda quietly crowed, “And **that** was what I was referring to.”

The sound of her name hit Momoki like a freight train. He grabbed Narihisago's shirt, shock and anger mixed. “Kiki! What in the hell are you doing?”

Still reeling from the disorientation, Narihisago gripped the hands that has seized him, fighting not to vomit. “Don't shake me … give me a second … Momoki, stop! It isn't **me** doing anything. It's all **her.** ”

“You called her Kiki! You're on a given name basis?”

Slowly, he nodded. “Yes.”

“So, she calls you Akihito?”

“Again—not my idea. Would you just listen—Momoki, please stop shaking me.”

He released him, leaning back in a crouch as Narihisago caught his breath. “You better not have done anything to her!”

Narihisago glanced up once followed by a sudden flare of panic as his rattled brain came around the now clarifying impression. “Oh God, no! Momoki, how could you even … it's **her** consciousness! Not my choice. Besides, you know me, I may not qualify as sane anymore, but I'm not a pervert! She's lonely. We just talk, honestly that's all we do.”

Studying him, Momoki flexed a fist. “That better be it. She's just an innocent girl!”

“You're missing who the abductor is here. I never asked her to snatch me into her dream world.” He leaned up on an elbow, his brow furrowed. She'd taken him for a reason … what was it? He bolted upright. “Whoa! There's something a lot more pressing! Hirai's going to blow up the building with everyone inside.”

Everyone straightened pulling off perfect impressions of startled prairie dogs as Momoki gasped, “What? How do you know?”

“Kiki told me in a panic. That's why he's here, he's on a revenge mission.”

“For what?”

“Huyukawa.”

Wakashika gawked. “The Pyrotechnician?”

“Turns out Hirai was in another squad, but they were close comrades to the point where Huyukawa defended him in court for what looked like war crimes. But Hirai is one twisted bastard, he's out for blood.”

“Guys, if he's going to blow this place, we have to get out of here.” Wakashika pointed to the door. “How about we make a run for the exit.”

Fukuda held up a hand. “Yeah, can't say that didn't already occur to us. We scoped that out coming up. Narihisago wouldn't let me take a stab at it. Said that would be a suicide run, they booby trapped it. Anyone good with frag grenades? Yah, didn't think so.”

Habutae glanced out in the hall before remarking. “Against a bloodthirsty ex-military office guilty of war crimes, and we have to stop him? We're mainly office workers, not combat trained. None of us are even armed.”

Narihisago hung his head feeling rather useless. What could he possibly do to stop Hirai's revenge? It's not like he knew …

Tensing, Narihisago's eyes widened to the sensation not unlike fingernails down his spine. A bead of sweat dripped down his forehead. “Oh shit … ” It was barely a whisper, but they all turned to look at him, still seated on the floor. “We do have a weapon.”

The merciless storm was already building inside him. Trying to keep his breathing even, he climbed to his feet. “That's … that's why she showed me everything. The root of his drive. The pathway to reach him. Every damn thing needed to trigger it … Kiki!” His hand clenched on his own shirt in a pointless effort to get a grip. “What the fuck have you done?”

Momoki edged in front of him, blocking the way to the door. “Absolutely not. Get a hold of yourself.”

Narihisago shuddered. “Easy to say … impossible to do! I've never been able to stop it!”

“Habutae, shut the door and hold it! That's an order!” Momoki narrowed his eyes, and declared, “You're not going anywhere. Remember what you told me? People don't act on impulses alone.”

“Words … desperate words.” He clawed at his hair. “I don't want to do this. But … we have only one shot to stop him before he does it again.” The icy edge crept into his voice. What was the point of resisting. The battle had been lost the moment Kiki had shown him the path to the location. He crouched, ready to dart for the door. Momoki's presence the only thing keeping it at bay. It wouldn't for much longer. “I know where that scumbag is—right now.”

“You told me yourself, you don't know the layout of the building.”

“I've seen the path through his eyes. Kiki showed me. The chief's office.”

Momoki glanced over his shoulder.

That was the opening he was waiting for.

Narihisago took a mad dash for the doorway. He barely made it past Momoki. A hand seized his wrist and flung him to the ground, hard. Narihisago landed chest down with his right arm pinned beneath him, Momoki's left hand iron-gripped that wrist pulling it hard. He'd wrenched Narihisago's left arm behind his back and leaned on it.

Momoki snarled, “You always were a failure when it came to combat! You couldn't break this hold three years ago, doubt you can now.”

Narihisago grunted as he tried in vain to buck him off. It only earned him a tighter hold. “Asshole! Not everyone comes from a martial arts background!”

Leaning harder, Momoki's knuckles turned white. “That wasn't it, you used to be a pacifist. That's why you just about failed combat training. You hesitated too much. Stop struggling, I don't want to hurt you.”

“I want to, but I can't!” Narihisago's head arced back, teeth clenched. “Gah! You're dislocating my shoulder!”

Momoki hadn't been lying, he didn't want to hurt him, that was visible enough in his worried eyes. Easing up on one pressure Momoki switched tactics, he ground his elbow into his spine.

“Ahhh!” It didn't stop his thrashing entirely, but an elbow in the nerve channels certainly made it harder to move.

“I warned you. Now calm down!” He leaned to the side trying to get a better look at Narihisago's frantic eyes as he lay pinned against the floor. “Seriously, you're not even fighting me that hard, why are you sweating?”

He hissed through clenched teeth, “I'm not fighting **you** … you never understood … Momoki, I'm begging you, let me go. You have no idea how long this takes to dissipate. How much it hurts! It's like—like I can't breathe!”

Momoki scoffed. “I don't have that much pressure on you.”

“Not you—this damn urge! It's a fucking addiction, you moron! I hope you have enough in you to hold me down for the next couple of hours!”

Momoki stared down in quiet shock.

Narihisago's eyes half closed, but he still kicked in vain, fighting for purchase that Momoki wouldn't let him get against the tiled floor. “Shit, never mind. We won't have that long. Not without someone stopping that bastard who wants to blow us all to hell. Tell me, if you happen to be the unlucky survivor, can you carry the guilt of losing all those lives? Look at them—look at your crew! Can you handle losing their lives?”

In a sweeping gaze Momoki took in the worried Wellside staff standing around him.

The message rammed home as Narihisago pleaded, “I mean, look what the loss of just two lives did to me!” He shut his eyes as the memories threatened to gut him, heaping fire onto the already burning pyre within. Time had done nothing quell the agony of their loss.

Slowly, Momoki relaxed his grip, but not all the way. “I—I can't let you sacrifice yourself. Narihisago … I want you back … the partner I once had. I can't let you kill again, each time it's another part of you eroding away. This isn't you.”

Narihisago bowed his head, slowly shaking it. “Why can't you let it go? I'll never function as a normal human being again. For fuck sake, Momoki, I gave up on that years ago.”

“I … can't.”

“Who's the delusional one now?”

Momoki stared down into his eyes, searching for something, struggling with something.

_There isn't time for moral debates!_

“I get it.” Narihisago stared over his shoulder. “This isn't a choice you want to make. We really haven't been given one. So—don't make it. Turn your back and I'll take the consequences. Throw me in solitary for a solid month, I don't care. At least there will be a solitary to go to!” He took a few rasped breaths in the silence. “Momoki … with what she showed me I have the words to put an to end this. Please … I'm already un-salvageable, the only use I have on this Earth is as Kura's tool. Use me! Save their valuable lives!” He glanced to the Wellside crew. “That demented asshole isn't worth sacrificing everyone. Nothing is going to stop him. Except to turn his drive inward. I can do that! Let me!”

“Habutae.” His voice was a mere whisper over the shuddering breaths. The iron-grip released inch by inch as he withdrew the grapple.

The moment the pressure eased enough, Narihisago launched himself for the door without looking back—he couldn't watch the heartbreak in Momoki's eyes. The truth was hard to face, but it was pointless to fight it. The man Momoki remembered no longer existed, he had been devoured long ago by a horrid crippling illness.

With the pathway now cleared for him, he threw the door open and darted headlong, drowning in the need to end this, the need to rid the world of Tooru Hirai. The need … to save the innocent lives inside this building. That tiny shred of his former self still existed. A single link to his past self.

“Kiki, I don't know if I should be pissed at you … or thank you.”


	8. Chapter 8

Kokufu swallowed the bile burning his throat. He knew that sound over the walkie talkie. Gunfire, the impact of the bullets smacking into flesh, the gurgle of breaths through blood. Not that he had witnessed it in real life outside of movies. No, he had heard that very same sequence from the brilliant detectives in the id wells. Only this time, over that speaker, he knew—those deaths were real.

Behind the desk, Hirai reclined and swiveled back and forth. His eyes distant as he smiled. Smiling after delivering a threat about funeral planning? Yeah, this was normal.

“Commander.” Kokufu kept his voice quiet, he had given up trying to get loose from the zip tie cuffs they had put him in. “Your men mean a lot to you, don't they.”

“My men are hardened and loyal.” He didn't even shift his eyes.

“Loyalty.” Kokufu let the word hang in the air, the hardest part was not knowing how utterly unhinged this man was, he had to guess if there was a chance to reason with him. God knew they had some deranged inmates down in the prison, and all it would take was the wrong word to set some of them off. “Such an important attribute. We value that very highly here at Kura.”

Suddenly his eyes focused on Kokufu, burning with an intense humor. “You do? I find that hard to believe considering it was your own fired security personnel who told me everything I needed to know to break in here.”

His breath caught in his throat.

“And do you know what it cost me? Do you know the price of Kura?” Hirai held up four fingers. “Two beers a piece for them. That was it. Every single detail down to that Wellside which you screwballs used to catch people. There's no point in me looking through the premises. I already know what I want is gone, disposed of some time ago. Admittedly they could have been more selective in their words. But they are civilians after all. None of this will matter soon enough.”

Kokufu stiffened at the tone of his voice, so calm and sure. That was the most dangerous to deal with.

A man stood in the doorway and threw a firm salute. “You asked for me, sir?”

“Sergeant.” Hirai rested his chin in his hand, elbow on the armrest. “I tire of this retched bureaucrat. Everything is ready. Take him to our little surprise and secure him there for the finale. Oh, and prepare the men for the final phase. It's almost time.”

“Sir.” He threw another stiff salute before sweeping down and grabbing Kokufu by the arm, hauling him up to his feet. “Move it, white-collar. Nice and swift like.

Glancing over his shoulder, Kokufu shivered at the steady gaze of the sergeant. How utterly mechanical he seemed, almost robotic as he carried out the orders. A true military man. He wondered for a moment how long it had been since he had a thought of his own, if he was even capable of that as they descended the stairwell.

_**~ID~** _

Minutes had passed since the slap of Narihisago's shoes against the floor had faded into silence. Momoki sat on the floor staring at his open hands in disbelief. What had he done? He was still plagued by the twitch in Narihisago's eyes as he'd pleaded, an undeniable visible tick of his welling psychosis, a sign of how sick he truly was behind the melancholy veneer. He could still hear the tremor in Narihisago's voice as he gave in to his despicable urge. He could still feel the sensation of the fabric from Narihisago's shirt sliding through his loosening fingers … as he released him.

Momoki had let him go. Knowing full well what he had unleashed, he had been the final barrier keeping that impulse at bay. He had willed his fingers to relax the death grip. Consciously, he had let him … the next word was one he couldn't even let fully form. That was the reason that Kura existed. To locate them, to separate these deviants from society, to keep people safe.

At this moment, one of them ran full tilt through the halls of Kura to commit once again.

Momoki closed his eyes. A heavy weight growing painful in his chest.

A hand rested on his shoulder. He inhaled and caught the scent of Togo's perfume. She knelt down beside him. “Don't go there.”

“Where … ?”

“Where you are in your mind right now. I can see it on your face. You're doubting your decision.” Her hand tightened. “He was right. This wasn't a choice, and you shouldn't shoulder it.”

“But I … ”

“Let him take this. Narihisago can handle it. He is trying to spare you. That alone shows us all something. Something you once told me. No matter what _he_ says, he's not gone … that man behind the pariah … _that's_ the one who's risking everything to save all of us.”

“Why this way? Togo, every time he does this, I know what it does to him, how it changes him! He's darker after embracing this side.”

She stared Momoki in the eyes. “Darkness shows us the light. And right now, there is no other way, unless you want us all to die at the hands of a rogue ex-soldier. Kiki gave Narihisago the key, and for this process, only one will is necessary to commit. That will … is his.”

She was right, even though he didn't want to face it. Slowly, Momoki climbed to his feet, making for the doorway. “Not alone. I won't let him do this alone.”

_**~ID~** _

Getting caught by one of the roaming ex-soldiers in an elevator was not something Narihisago relished. Perhaps that had more to do with a left over bad vibe from numerous dives into an id well involving malfunctioning elevators. How many times did he get limbs severed by the doors shutting randomly? Including decapitations?

A rippling shudder struck him as a thought formed. _Just how many normal everyday events would now be tarnished by the shit I've seen in the id wells? I mean, I know those are just surreal images … but even just glancing at the elevator door was enough to repel me._

He abandoned that path as the elevator descended the floors, someone was using it which proved his nagging hunch right. He dashed through the stairwell doors and started up the steps, listening at each flight in case he suddenly wasn't alone. Not that he cared if a rogue bullet ended his miserable life, it just couldn't happen before he found Hirai. This was a rather strange feeling, rather like stalking prey. Narihisago allowed the wry grin as the familiar maelstrom of emotions swirled, anger drove his every step toward the balm of pleasure. But there was something he wasn't used to. Movement. The freedom of more than a handful of square footage, the quiet thunder of his pulse in his ears as he physically climbed the floors towards the chief's office. Kiki had even known that was how he would climb the stories—she had shown him this very path.

She knew him so well. She knew that he had what it took to end this without the loss of innocent lives. She knew damn well as he did what a fuckhead that prick up there was and that he was about get a lesson he wouldn't walk away from.

His footsteps hardly echoed as he walked toward the chief's open office door. Narihisago's heart beat steadily, his breathing calm. Frighteningly calm. A portion of his mind registered the wrongness—he was about commit a form of murder. The rest of his brain told that part it had no business here. Light pouring through the office window cast Narihisago's shadow out into the hall as he filled the doorway, his motionless eyes took in the military figure seated in the chair, back lit like a man on a stage.

Tooru Hirai. Narihisago knew him the moment he laid eyes on the man. The stiff, proud bearing forged into a soldier left the tell tale marks that no lack of uniform could defy. Hirai glanced up at the door only the briefest flash of alarm in his eyes before he mastered it.

That didn't surprise Narihisago for a multitude of reasons. For one he doubted he looked a threat at all, knowing what his recent appearance brought to mind. _A skate park reject … how very descriptive. Thanks for that mental image, Wakashika._ Yet, he couldn't even deny it. Who would be worried about that kind of a persona? For another reason, the man in the chair had seen war. A single opponent in his ego's eyes could not possibly pose a threat.

_He might be surprised._

Purposefully, with his hands relaxed at his sides, Narihisago walked into the center of the room, making certain not to block the doorway. He stood behind the chairs intended for the chief's guests. The only motion he took was a quick sweeping glance to confirm that they were in fact alone here.

Kokufu was not in the room. There was no time to consider what that could mean. That was alright, actually. He didn't really want Kokufu to watch this. He didn't want _anyone else_ to watch this. A part of him that he now utterly despised, but in this moment was a necessary evil.

Hirai folded his hands over his rifle. “Who are you?”

Narihisago kept his gaze slightly lower, fixed on Hirai's chest. Non-threatening, a show of respect, false though it might be. “No one.” A mere monotone whisper.

A flat chuckle escaped Hirai as he flipped a hand. “Now, that's what I like. A civie that knows his place.”

Holding his tongue, Narihisago didn't correct him over the fact that inmates were hardly considered civilians.

Hirai stretched his arms back, full relaxation on display. “You work here?”

“Yes.” That was no lie.

“You happy here?”

“No.” That wasn't either.

Hirai's eyebrow raised. “Let me guess, janitorial staff, tired of cleaning up after the mess the white-collars make, eh. Well, I'm about to become your best friend.”

Narihisago eyes narrowed by a fraction. “Friend. An interesting word from a man like you.”

He lifted his chin, a finger inching toward the trigger of the rifle across his lap. “Excuse me?”

“What does it mean to you?”

Hirai smirked. “You do realize I am in charge of this building.”

“Friend—what does it mean to you?”

“Heh, you're a stubborn one, ain't yah.” He heaved a sigh. “Let's go to kindi-garten , if that's what you want to do. Friends stick by one another, got each others backs, thick or thin.”

A twitch in the corner of Narihisago's mouth. How swiftly he fell in without even realizing it. Keep wading in until it's too deep … like the quick sand. “If you say so.”

“I do. I've had squads of friends.”

“Squads.” Narihisago nodded slowly. “More than one.”

“You slow or something? Yeah, that's what the 's' at the end means, plural.”

Holding up a hand, Narihisago kept his voice that chilling even tone, creeping like a killing frost. “I wonder what Huyukawa feels about you?”

There it was, a tightening of Hirai's eyes. “No way of knowing. He's dead because of this place.”

He couldn't quite banish the smile, he hid it by looking down at his feet. “Oh, what a shame. Tell me, did it hurt when you lost your hype man?”

Hirai's jaw tightened, he sat forward, leaning over the desk as if he intended to vault over it.

“I imagine it would be difficult to spin things when the world looks at you as nothing but a shame to the uniform.” Narihisago watched him through the strands of hair, studied him as the words bored in tensing his muscles, driving his pulse up, the words stabbed at the raw nerves repeatedly hitting their mark like torturous drops of water nailing the same spot. Insidious. “Huyukawa, a true friend, even though he was in another squad that day. A squad that was decimated. Hell, he was more than just a friend, wasn't he. To you, he was the best thing in the world—a hero-worshiper building you your own pedestal.”

Hirai lifted the rifle aiming it Narihisago's chest. “You sound just like _them_! What does a civie like you know!”

_Oh, more than enough to destroy you, soldier boy._ “Those in service are called on to be more responsible than the average citizen. We have been trained, we are supposed to know better.”

A huffed breath escaped him. But then he narrowed one eye. “Wait a minute …  _we?_ You don't act like a soldier.”

“That's because I wasn't.” Narihisago continued in a measured tone, banishing any hint of the pain dancing this close to his own truth caused him. “There are more services than the military. But the responsibility is the same. To protect the innocent.”

“Innocent?” He spat, the gun's muzzle flailed as he ranted. “We were the innocent ones! We were the ones who weren't understood. That sham of a court martial! That bombing saved lives, yet they called what we'd done war crimes. We were heroes!”

“A bombing that took out several nearby squads. Don't they call that 'friendly fire' when that happens? What's friendly about that? A bombing that warped the mind of an impressionable young Huyukawa who photographed your squad celebrating your victories.”

“You weren't there. No civilian will ever understand war and what we did by destroying that nest of evil.”

“Nest of evil?” A hollow laugh escaped Narihisago. “Is that how you view women, children, families huddled in their homes just trying to see the end of the day?”

His lip curled. “There were guilty ones. There were future terrorists among them.”

“Ah, there's the word I was waiting for, oh mighty hero … Tell me, what is the difference between a hero and a terrorist?” Narihisago's eyes stared toward the rays of sunlight filtering at an angle through the blinds. He could only imagine what that did to his jade eyes.

Hirai's hand twitched near the trigger, his aim faltering as his brain grappled with the pounding question.

“Don't injure yourself thinking about it. I'll tell you the answer.” He blinked slowly, rather like a viper hypnotizing its prey. “The difference between a hero and a terrorist—is whose lens he's standing in. Friend or foe.”

“No … it's black and white!”

“Even if that were true … ”

“It is true!” He shook his head. “Like before, I'm standing against the greater evil! That area was full of vile people intent on spreading hatred!”

_Oh the irony._

“And here, in this building! Kura is an evil organization. Only an evil organization would have killed an artist like Huyukawa.”

“The Pyrotechnician. You do realize, inspired by your little war stunt, he made elaborate bombs just so he could photograph the people watching their destructive power. Your inspiration, your 'friendship' twisted and warped his mind into that of a mass murderer who completely dismissed the value of life.”

“No!” Hirai gripped his rifle firmer. “That's not true.”

“Trust me. His shallow view of the world bathed in blood lead to his breathless end. Now … I remind you, Commander, we who are called to service are held to higher responsibility. Even more so when you lead and are responsible for the dismissal of an entire squad for war crimes.”

“They weren't war crimes!” His pulse throbbed in the vein on his neck. Pupils twitching with each beat like a hammer pounded them.

Narihisago closed his eyes and covered one with his hand. “A young girl in a floral print dress, light blue like the morning sky. She wore a scarf over her head and gripped in her arms was a terrified young boy in a brown shorts and a dark red shirt so young he had barely started walking.”

“How … you … weren't there!” It was a haunted whisper.

“Were you a hero when you stood there and ordered your men to execute them? Two young children?” Narihisago opened his eyes and studied the threads snapping one by one as his logic disassembled Hirai's mind. “Do you know what her last words were? Did you even understand them?”

Hirai only breathed in and out, his dilating eyes stared into nothing.

Narihisago waited, looking him cold in the eyes already knowing the answer. When the silence stretched too long, when Hirai's eyes twitched in a split moment to met his punishing gaze, he whispered, “'Brother, don't fear. Momma is already waiting for us on the other side.'”

Taking a staggering step back, Hirai dropped the gun to swing from its strap as he shuddered.

“There were more. Countless more children, innocent women and men—mere citizens that happened to be in your way that you never even bothered to understand their pleas. When you gave an order, your men were trained, _conditioned_ to obey it, without question. You are no hero, **mass murderer**. Just like you made Huyukawa. Just like you made your entire squad by your despicable orders.”

“No.” His gaze fell to his hands, he frantically began to wipe them on his clothing as if trying to rid them of blood. “It's not true … it's not true!”

“Huyukawa met a pitiful end. He strangled himself with a bed sheet when forced to face reality.” Narihisago gestured to Hirai and just locked his eyes on him.

With a shaking hand Hirai pulled out his pistol. “I'm a hero.” A tear trembled in the corner of his eye. “We were all heroes … no one understood what we were doing.”

“Murdering innocent people under the guise of duty, laughing and joking about it as you drank in celebration. You knew what you were doing. You just didn't expect to have to answer for it. Not even the mud beneath a tank tread is lower than that abuse of power.”

Hirai's hand inched up. He flicked the safety off, placing the gun to the side of his neck, against the throbbing vein marking his frantic pulse. His eyes closed. “My men, they carry out their orders, they … already have … we must always kill the greater evil.” His finger hesitated on the trigger, twitching once before it committed.

**BANG!**

He was dead before he hit the floor.

“They told you how to break into Kura, but those fools forgot to warn you about me.” A slow smile spread across Narihisago's face as the pool of blood flowed out from behind the desk. “Would you look at that, your bullet just saved a helluva lot of lives.”

A stirring behind him turned his head.

Momoki stood with his hands in fists, eyes wide, skin pale. He bit off his words, “You really have become a twisted bastard! I never want to hear you do that again!”

Lowering his head, Narihisago fought to wipe the amusement from his features knowing damn well it was inappropriate. But he couldn't help it in the wash of what always followed the one action that somehow drew it to the surface.

Pleasure.


	9. Chapter 9

The eyes that stared through the strands of hair sent a shiver down Momoki's spine. A dark feral glare that had no business belonging to the man he once knew … and that was the painful realization. Right now, Narihisago wasn't the man he knew. A vague satisfactory smile kept teasing the corners of his mouth.

If that wasn't bad enough, Momoki now found himself more or less trapped between two serial killers. Filing into the office behind him the rest of the Wellside crew surrounded Fukuda, who had his hands in pockets and fortunately seemed to be more curious than into causing any mischief at the moment. _Let it stay that way, I have my hands full with … oh God, I don't even know what to do!_

Narihisago turned on his feet to face him. Everything about him deceptively relaxed. “I told you I'd take care of it. It's done. The building's in one piece without any innocent deaths.”

“That's not the point.” Momoki tightened a fist, he didn't even know what to say. He'd heard a good deal of the exchange eavesdropping outside of the door. That cold monotone delivery shook him. He'd seen the footage of the other cornered deaths. But there had been no audio. That voice—it hadn't even sounded like Narihisago. It sounded as though he'd been possessed.

Folding his arms, Narihisago gave him a sideways look. “Alright fine, how long are you going to toss my ass into solitary for this? Let's hear it.”

“I … ,” Momoki searched for the words.

“You're disgusted. It's all over your body language. I get it. You know what? I could make this whole thing a lot easier on everyone.” Narihisago craned his neck and searched the office. “Kokufu got a mirror in here? I might as well try this theory out.”

“What are you talking about?” There was something about the irritation creeping into his voice again.

He huffed a breath. “I can tell you're sick of this shit … well, so am I. Truth is, I am a serial killer. Stands to reason I should be able to corner my own God-be-damned self.”

Momoki snapped to attention. “Don't you do it! Don't you **dare** do it! I'll never forgive you if you do!”

“Never forgive me?” He cocked a half smile. “Wow, what a line to use. You clearly haven't forgiven me for pulling the trigger on that savage brute, the Challenger. Knowing the truth behind it all still hasn't changed that one iota. See? You flinched.”

Momoki hadn't even felt it. But out of the corner of his eye the barely guarded reactions of the crew told it all. He had flinched. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves. It barely helped. “Just wait, I haven't made up my mind yet. This was clearly a different circumstance, I'll need to talk it through with Kokufu.”

The short laugh was not what he expected in reply. Narihisago watched him through half closed eyes. “And that right there about sums it up.”

Wakashika shifted uncomfortably slightly behind Momoki's shoulder. His eyes kept darting to and away from the pool of blood behind the desk, the limp hand laid across the pistol grip.

“What?” Momoki asked without much thought, distracted by his crew's nervous motions.

“The thanks I get.” Narihisago shook his head. “It's not like I expected to get a 'good work' for this particular action … but still. The perspective still eludes you.”

“A man is dead!”

He pointed behind the desk. “A bit longer and he would have turned Kura into a mass grave. But please, let's all bemoan his loss.”

“How can you be so cold about this?”

His eyes didn't falter a fraction. “Because I've seen his convictions. I've had a mind's eye view of his personal war crimes and how he twisted them into the visage of a hero. I've watched him order his men to repeatedly pull the trigger on innocent victims knowing damn well what he was doing. But please, go ahead, place him on a pedestal. That is what he wants, after all.”

“We are detectives—”

“ **You** are a detective!”

“—we are not executioners!”

Out in the hallway voices echoed. “Over this way! I heard someone in the chief's office.”

Narihisago and Fukuda both took a step back, creating a wider gap from the door. In a moment, when Momoki turned he could see why. Six members of security filed in. Itoh, the head of security, along with Soma and Hagashi at the forefront. They were of course, still unarmed.

Itoh heaved a sigh of relief when he spied the Wellside crew. “Good, you're safe. The first one's we've found since we brok—” he instantly froze as his eyes caught the inmates among them. Crouching down as if about to bull rush, he thrust a finger toward the pair. “Seize them!”

Luckily, none of them seemed eager to comply to that order as Momoki held up a hand. “Easy. They actually helped us out.”

“But they're—”

“I know. But don't you think we have more important intruders to worry about? Like the rest of those soldiers wandering around here.”

One of the guards edged closer to the desk, skirting the now much more subdued Narihisago whose gaze was suddenly claimed by the floor. The moment the guard caught sight of Hirai's body his color drained. “Sir, look!”

Itoh rushed, as much as a guy his robust size could hustle, to the side of the desk. “We got a body. Who responsible for this?”

Narihisago didn't look up as he muttered, “He pulled the trigger on himself.”

Snapping a quick look his way, Soma covered his mouth. “You didn't … ”

His head only sunk lower.

“Didn't what?” Itoh's eyebrow cocked. When only a tense silence answered him, he shouted, “Hey grunt, I asked you a question. What the hell's going on here?”

Nervously, Soma pointed. “I told you about this before when we had to move Hase.”

“Yeah, cause of some dude who messed with him … ” The gears seemed to slowly turn, Itoh's hand slowly lifted. “Wait … this is him? The talker? Did he just … do this?”

Fukuda crossed his arms and murmured, “Captain Obvious earns a gold star sticker.”

Momoki darted a quick silencing glare his way before turning to Itoh. To Momoki's surprise, Narihisago remained silent. “Itoh, there is an explanation for all this.”

Puffing his chest out, Itoh thrust a finger into his palm. “Start talking.”

“I did it.” Narihisago stared through the tops of his eyes at Itoh, attracting his immediate attention. “I pushed him into pulling the trigger on himself.”

“Narihisago.” Momoki snapped, “I said we'd handle this later.”

But Itoh was already posturing, reaching for his empty holster. “So you're the trouble maker I keep hearing about.”

“That _trouble maker_ is critical to our operations.” Stepping forward, Momoki blocked Itoh from advancing on him. “He's our primary pilot, as you've been told countless times over the past months. Now please, the situation is under control for the moment. Once things are secure, we can return them down to the cell block. For now, we need to focus on finding the rest of the intruders.”

“They're dead.” Narihisago remarked to the floor.

Everyone turned to look at him.

He blinked slowly. “That was part of his plan … remember the keys in the dive? Two minds in sync for a single purpose? This was it, but it was more than two—it was his mind and the consensus of the whole squad. A full on suicide mission, their final blaze of glory. Bet if you look his handgun is now empty.”

Hagashi edged around the desk, careful not to step into the blood. He reached and plucked the gun from the loose grip, pulling the mag. His eyes flashed wide. He held it up, empty. “How did you know?”

Togo lowered her head. “So … we're safe, but they've all … they've taken their own lives?”

Narihisago nodded, lifting his chin towards Hirai's body. “He would have waited and gone out with the bomb.”

“That's good news.” Wakashika wiped his brow. “I mean, we've avoided that part. Though, if he was gonna trigger the bomb, where is the remote?”

Soma scratched his head. “There are plenty of other ways. Maybe there's another guy with it, or timers, or … wait, a bomb?”

“Yeah.” Momoki met Itoh's stare. “That's what Narihisago was able to warn us about.”

“How would he know? He some kind of psychic?”

_This is possibly the most frustrating day of my life. Seriously? Itoh wants to press this now instead of cleaning up after the infiltration? There are far more pressing matters than …_ “Narihisago? Are you alright?”

One minute he was standing there, shaking his head as if to clear it. The next, he went completely limp again. Momoki caught his weight and guided it to the floor even as security panicked. “Everybody stay calm. It's alright. Damn it, he's got a nosebleed this time. Does she have any concept what this is doing to him?”

“Twice in one day?” Wakashika leaned forward. “There has to be a good reason. I mean, there certainly was last time, right? I doubt she did it just to congratulate him … ” his voice grew more timid, “ … on killing.”

Taking out his handkerchief, Momoki soaked up the trickle of blood. It wasn't a lot, but enough, and certainly not a comforting sign. “I don't know, but when he comes to, we'll have a better idea. For now, we wait.”

Narihisago lay on his side as Momoki had eased him down. His chest rose and fell in a sleeping rhythm. His eyes beneath the lids moving in that odd pattern Togo had recognized.  _What is it this time? Why are you doing this, Kiki?_


	10. Chapter 10

_This is going to finish me off … my head was still hurting from the first time. What's it going to feel like coming out of this a second time in less than an hour? The well dives compound slightly, but that's with a significant buffer, that's obvious now. Being actually asleep, more or less, also clearly has a positive impact. Hope I didn't hit my head. If I did, would I even wake up? That would be a rather serious inconvenience._

Akihito lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling of the chamber and watching the reflections off the ripples dance.

“I'm sorry … ” her voice came from a short distance off to his left. “But … ”

He heaved a drawn out sigh. “What is it now?” Was it even worth sitting up? It felt kind of nice lying there with the tiny waves caressing his bare arms. Sort of like the calming effect of waves at the beach on a warm summer day. It had been way too long since he had felt that. Now that he thought about it, way too long since he had felt much of anything besides numbness or the residual agony of a well death … or getting shot in the gut.

_Yup … this is the life._

Kiki appeared over him looking down pensively, framed by her long black hair. No words left her.

Akihito muttered without energy, “You know what you did.”

She grabbed her elbows and bit her lip for a heavy moment. “There was no other way, he had to be stopped. It was the sole path I could see to achieve that end. If I could have reached him, I would have done it myself …” her voice dropped to a mere whisper, “to protect you.” She hugged herself tighter. “But, I didn't bring you here again because of that …, Akihito, there is … something else.”

He shut his eyes. “How can this day possibly get any worse?” Too late he realized he shouldn't have asked that.

Kneeling down she laid a hand in the center of his chest. That hand felt far heavier than it had any right being. “We don't have long. And I wish I didn't have to pull you here again... I can feel your pain.”Her hand hovered over his head. At least here it didn't hurt, but it was going to become migraine central soon enough. “Before you entered the office, Hirai sent his sergeant down to the Wellside with the bomb and he also took Kokufu. When the soldier reached the Wellside, before he pulled the trigger on himself, he set the timer … the clock is ticking. You have to hurry.”

“Heh heh.” He rocked his head back and forth in the embrace of the water. “I'll be lucky if I can see straight for the next five minutes after coming to. And you want me to defuse a bomb? Kiki—I don't know how to do that.”

“Find someone who does … or … ”

The words he'd used on Momoki came back to him. “All those lives will be lost … shit.” He took a deep breath and braced himself. It wasn't like he had a choice … well, he did, but letting everyone else die was really not an option in his mind. This time he could only serve as a messenger. “Ok fine … send me back.”

She bent down and laid her head against his chest. “Again, I am really sorry. I don't mean to hurt you.”

“Yeah, I know. That is the intention of a lot of people … but, I guess it's just my lot.”

_**~ID~** _

Narihisago twitched a couple times beneath Momoki's hand before he curled into the fetal position, wailing out incoherently as he grasped his head. The nosebleed, to Momoki's dismay renewed itself. The handkerchief dropped in the motion, all he could do was keep a hand in contact with him as an anchor, hoping the pressure let him know this was real.

Itoh took a step back in shock, joined by a couple of the security staff. To Momoki's relief, Soma knelt down and offered his own hand to Narihisago's shoulder, true concern in his eyes. The rest of the Wellside crew remained close, but out of the way. Fukuda gripped his own elbows, biting his lip and trying to look away but failing.

After close to a minute, Narihisago's frantic cries dwindled to a whimper. He blindly climbed up Momoki's arm, panting and on the verge of dry heaving. Droplets of blood fell onto his suit sleeve before Momoki moved the handkerchief to help catch most of it. “Easy, just keep breathing. It'll pass.”

“No … time … ” He stuttered before a dry heave stole his efforts to speak.

It surprised Momoki how desperately he clung, fighting to open his eyes before snapping them shut again.

Snatches of words came out in an unintelligible muddle.

“Narihisago slow down. What was that?” It sounded important, but he couldn't catch enough to make any sense.

Shakily he pointed out the door, “Go … Wellside … Bomb … Timer set … Kokufu's there.” The tension left his arms and he fell slack into Momoki, practically laying against his shoulder. The toll had claimed him.

No time for shock, it was time for a leader. Momoki snapped up at Itoh. “Does anyone know how to disarm a bomb? Quick! Anyone!”

The man looked back at him in a daze.

_Utterly useless._

Soma rose to his feet already turning. “I was on a bomb squad before. I'll go.” Right behind him Hagashi peeled off, racing down the hall.

Relieved, Momoki rested a hand on Narihisago's back. “I should have said this earlier, but good work. We owe you our lives.”

The only response was a slight lift of his head before it fell limp, back against his arm.

“Take it easy. They got this now.”

Shiratake picked up the walkie talkie off the desk. “Hopefully they'll find one of these down there and we'll know when this whole fracas is over. Hope that Kokufu is ok.”

“He's got a sound head on his shoulders.” Togo glanced at the doorway. “I'm sure he's made it this far.”

Shifting behind the chair, Fukuda tried to step closer.

Itoh snapped to him, “Back up!”

Slowly, Fukuda lifted his hands. “It's ok, man. I just wanted to know if Narihisago's alright.”

“Yeah.” His voice was muffled by Momoki's sleeve before he pushed up, dragging the back of his hand beneath his nose. He blinked at the smear of blood and hung his head. “Kiki and I have _got_ to talk about this … uuuggg.”

Momoki offered his handkerchief. “Headache?”

“Splitting. But … the room stopped spinning.” Pinching his nose altered his voice. “The worst seems to have passed, if it's anything like before.”

“You're still shaking. Turn around, lean against me til that stops.”

Gingerly, Narihisago shifted around so he could lay his head back against Momoki's shoulder, staring at the ceiling while holding the offered handkerchief tight over his nose. His weight sagged against him, still trembling and closing his eyes tight. “Heh … probably gonna end up with narcolepsy after this. That's all I need, another issue on top of everything else.”

Fukuda tapped his chin. “Bright side, maybe it'll counter your insomnia.”

“Somehow I doubt it.” A shiver rippled through him, his eyes darting to the left ring finger before clenching tightly. The curse almost inaudible, “Damn it.” He pulled the handkerchief back and swiftly muttered. “Uhhh, come on stop.”

But it already had. Momoki raised an eyebrow, the bleeder wasn't why he'd swore.

Keeping his voice down, Momoki asked, “Something happened last night that set you off … don't think I haven't caught the signs. What was it?”

Narihisago's eyes glanced at him to the side. He dropped the charade and lowered the handkerchief to his lap, his gaze followed to the fingers rubbing the ring finger of his left hand. “I don't want her to, but she's … she's trying to help me by restoring my memories … the ones that … ” he shook his head, “the ones that remind me of everything I've lost. Last night … it was,” his voice cracked, “the engagement.”

For a moment, Momoki held his breath.

“Before it had just been dreams … random bits that would wake me up in the middle of the night. Reminders that weren't … they weren't quite right. I always knew that for some reason something had altered them.”

Fukuda broke the silence. “That explains a whole lot.”

“What does?” Narihisago glanced his way, a slight edge creeping into his voice.

“Man, do you have any idea the shit you say in your sleep _before_ you wake up?”

“Of course I don't. I'm asleep, you idiot.”

Flashing a lazy grin, Fukuda pointed across the room. “There's an easy fix. I'm tellin' ya. All you need is—”

Narihisago glared at him. “Seriously? You're gonna suggest drilling a hole in the head of guy who already has a splitting headache? You're even crazier than I thought.”

“Hey, don't knock it til you tried it.”

“I don't want a lobotomy. With my luck it would make shit worse.”

“Come on.”

“No! Personally I think one serial killer screwing with my head is enough for one lifetime.”

Momoki rolled his eyes, but at least Narihisago was holding a conversation and squinting more out of annoyance verses pain.

_**~ID~** _

“Damn … ,” Hagashi stared at the two bodies lying in the hallway in a pool of blood. The muzzles of their handguns aimed at one another. “He was right. Every single one of these bastards is dead.”

Soma waved a hand looking toward the open door. “Thankfully. Can you imagine if we had to face these militant psychos without our guns?”

“Hey, you really know how to dismantle a bomb?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“How they made it.”

A voice called out through the door. “Soma? Is that you?”

Instantly he speed up, tearing around the corner to find Kokufu cuffed to a Wellside stair railing. His expression instantly relaxed. Soma cast his gaze around the room looking for something out of place, there was a soldier slumped against the wall with a gaping hole in his head not far from the chief. “Where's the bomb?”

Kokufu lifted his chin toward the upper railing, above the door. “Hurry. I don't know how long he set the timer for.”

Racing up the stairs, Soma knelt down next to the C-4 bomb clamped with metal to the railing. Military grade indeed. More than enough to level the whole complex. Approximately three minutes left on the timer. Military grade … this was beyond him.

Beneath him, Hagashi grabbed the knife from the corpse and cut Kokufu free from the zip tie cuffs. “You ok, Chief?”

“I've had better days.” He rubbed his wrists. “But very glad to see you two. Ok, what do we got?” He was surprisingly calm considering their circumstances.

“A problem.” Soma leaned closer. “This is some serious stuff. Disarming it isn't going to happen in the three minutes we have left.”

“So, … we need to evacuate?”

“The main entrance is booby trapped. They probably got the other ones too.” The gears turned on an idea. “Hold on … Hagashi, come with me.”

“Where too?”

He was already running down the hall, calling over his shoulder, “I need help carrying a tank.”

“Of what?”

Soma grinned. “Liquid nitrogen!”

Sure enough, when he opened the specialized storage closet there they were. Tanks of the stuff. Coolant for the computer server. He'd stumbled on the closet while performing rounds one night. “Alright, one of you babies is about to be sacrificed to save our asses.”

There were large and unwieldy, but insulated. Without a word Hagashi grabbed one end, and he took the other. They hefted it up onto their shoulders and hiked it back down the hall to the Wellside room, grunting as they climbed the stairs.

Soma cracked the seal. “Ok, get out of the way. No time to disconnect those clamps, I'm just gonna tip this sucker onto the rail.”

Kokufu and Hagashi backed up to the opposite side of the room and watched.

Pushing it over, Soma dropped the lip against the top rail, a stream of subzero liquid poured down over the C-4, timer and all. Ice crystals sprang everywhere as a huge cloud formed.

“Won't that break the timer?” Kokufu scratched his head.

As if on cue, a loud cracking sound made them all jump.

“Won't matter.” Some shrugged. “Sucker's frozen solid. If not permanently disabled thanks to the timer breaking, we just bought ourselves hours to deal with this piece of shit.”

“Where did you learn that trick?”

Soma grinned. “Saw it in a movie once. Course, they said it only bought a few seconds. Haha, turns out the scriptwriters were wrong when some show tested out their movie magic. Even if it had a remote trigger, it can't detonate for a long time. But you know action movies, they love their tension.”


	11. Chapter 11

“Wait a moment,” a mild panic entered Momoki's voice as Narihisago edged up to his feet, “should you be doing that?”

He rubbed his forehead trying in vain to massage away the throbbing headache. Catching his weight on the back of a chair, he was steady enough if he didn't push it. “I got it.” Narihisago glanced down to catch the deep maroon stain marring the black wool of Momoki's sleeve. He hung his head and murmured, “Sorry about that.”

Momoki covered it with his hand. “Don't mention it. It's not like you could do anything about it.”

He hoped that Momoki didn't catch him flinching at this words. How utterly true. Unable to do anything … the story of his life of late. Even though it rested on the back of the chair, his hand tightened into a fist. Damn it, everything was compounding. Kiki's midnight messing with his memories, the fouled dive with Fukuda, the infiltration pushing him to break regulations which vaulted his stress level through the roof as he struggled against years of conditioning, pushing Hirai to his death … he still heard the echo of the gun. And that … that sound still set his heart racing, his own finger twitching.

The Challenger.

He clenched his eyes tight, his breathing hitched as he leaned heavier on the chair.

They were talking … talking about something, but he couldn't follow the conversation. It took everything he had just to stand there … just to exist.

“Hey Narihisago? You're not looking well.”

“That's cause I'm not.”

“I told you,” Momoki lectured, “you probably shouldn't have gotten up.”

“Wouldn't matter.” His fingers clawed into the fabric of the chair that prevented him from falling over. “It doesn't make a damn bit of difference. This is just the shit I have to deal with … each … and every time. But nobody ever sees it. Guess Kiki's meddling brought it on quicker. Usually I've been pitched into solitary by the time this wave comes … out of sight, out of mind, right?” A tense giggle escaped him. “Fitting since I'm out of my own Goddamned mind. Toss Narihisago in solitary so no one has to deal with his crazy ass—a blessing for everyone else.”

“That's not it.” He stepped closer, trying to keep his voice even, but a detectable panic crept into it.

“What good has it ever done?” Narihisago glared over his shoulder. “Do I ever come out of it for the better? Be honest … it's not for me that you do it. Not to teach me a lesson that this psychosis will never let me learn … trust me, if I could stop—I would.”

Standing there, Momoki joined the others locked in stunned silence.

“None of it matters in the long run. Chase after chase, dive after dive, it's the same over and over again.” He ran a hand through his hair, fingers catching on the snarls. “Has it even occurred to you? Every damn convict that has been locked down in Kura's cells to this point is because of me. Every single one of them taken in because of a dive _I_ performed. Hundreds of dives into fucked up psyches. This isn't bragging … this is just my chance to share with you all the crap that runs rampant through my deranged mind when I'm not too subdued to voice it!”

“Narihisago,” holding up a hand, Momoki barely managed to force his voice to level, “we will talk about this later.”

“Later? There will never be a later.” He took a few strained breaths,trying to rein it in, but it was fruitless. The dam had broken. “You mean it will be like before when you put me away until you need me, and then it's business as usual! On to the next case, the well dive. You never let me out just to talk! I'm a tool to you. Besides, I won't have the will to say this shit later. It's now or never! And trust me, I know about lost chances.” He pointed at Momoki, huffing each breath. Out of the corner of his eyes he noted security didn't advance, they backed away from him. Things might have been different if they'd been armed … another chance he'd never have again. “The things, all the time I will never get back. I am where I am because of lost opportunities. Obsessed with work, I should have been there for them. Maybe I would have intercepted him, my presence could have warded off the Challenger … Muku wouldn't have been taken, Ayako would still be alive. I should have done more to be with my family!”

Momoki waved his hands. “It wasn't all work. You're not remembering it right. You even said those memories aren't accurate. Don't blame yourself for Muku's murder. You spent so much time with them, even while working as a detective. I was jealous of you for having that to go home to.”

He scoffed, turning away. “ _'Had'_ being the operative word. That's … they've been ripped from me. What do you think fuels my rage, Momoki? It's the void left behind. The reason for my own MO—it's the most painful thing in this world that I have ever known.” If someone had hit him in chest with a wrecking ball he was convinced it wouldn't hurt half as much. “When … Ayako left me … the anguish that remained was worse than death, the lure to join her. Nothing is more painful. When her resolve failed her I hadn't seen it … God, I should have been there for her.”

Lowering his eyes Momoki murmured, “I should have been there for _you_ in the days that followed. Maybe I could have stopped you.”

“I wish you had … things might have turned out differently.” For a long moment he stared down at his guilty hands, the finger twitching as if pulling the trigger repeatedly. The action felt so empty now. “But somehow I doubt it. Not after what _he_ did. The one thing that would fix all this isn't possible in this world. I need my family … I need Ayako and Muku back. But that … outside of a two year well within a well dive which only twisted the knife of what I've been denied, that can never happen. Memories … tainted memories are all that remain of them. I've poisoned everything. There is no turning back, all that remains is the misery of being alone. And standing here … outside of the handful of rooms I have seen in the last year …” his gaze wandered around the room at a loss for a point to fix on, no … unable to rest overlong on any one thing, “ … I shouldn't be out here.” He leaned forward, resting his head against his folded arms on the back of the chair. “All of this feels so wrong.”

“Narihisago, if you need a break from the dives … ”

A short laugh punched from his throat. “Think about what you're saying. What would that leave me? Stewing in a tiny cell with no purpose. That's all I live for now. The job. That's all I have. Take that away and I might as well not exist … you can't let me out of confinement … that's obvious now. I can't function. Ignoring the serious issue of my drive to kill other killers, there's all the things the dives have left impressions over. Sakaido may forget, I envy that lucky bastard, because I remember each and every damn one and all the twisted dark depths he's wandered through. Before it never occurred to me. But now? Oh yeah … a quick climb through this building and I can tell you, normal everyday shit isn't normal for me anymore.”

“You are a normal human being.”

“Bullshit.” He muttered just above his breath. “Stop patronizing me. I haven't been normal since the day my daughter was pulverized to death. The moment I lost it … the moment I crossed the line everyone abandoned me. Matsuoka told me the chief had my name banished from even being mentioned, and struck from all my work as though I never existed. My parents never even inquired about my whereabouts, did they.”

Momoki no longer faced him.

“I knew as much. That right there is rather telling.”

“We'll find a way to fix you.”

“Oh please, you make it sound like I'm a computer with a malfunctioning processor.”

Taking a deep breath, Momoki looked at him at a complete and utter loss. “What do you want?”

Silence stretched before he shifted uncomfortably. “I don't know.” It was a moment before he lifted a hand slightly in an aborted gesture, his voice hardly audible, “I want to have a choice, I want to be able to decide not to do it … but … but … ” his shoulders fell. Over the last three years holding onto to optimistic delusions had lead him to nothing but disappointment.

“You're truly miserable, aren't you.”

He couldn't help it, his head lowering was the only answer he could give.

“Earlier,” he ventured with a tremble to his voice, “you mentioned ending it all. Were you serious?”

“I'm constantly at war within myself every moment of every day.” Narihisago eyed him sideways before lowering his gaze to the floor. “You don't want to know the answer to that question.”

“No. You can't be serious.”

Fukuda cleared his throat. “You know, you haven't tried everything.”

In tandem Momoki and Narihisago shouted, “Shut up, Fukuda!”

Instantly he recoiled, the floor claiming his gaze in an ironclad lock. The rest if the Wellside crew stared from one to the other.

Momoki slashed the air with his hand toward Fukuda. “How could you ev—”

“No wait … that was wrong.” Narihisago stepped in front of Momoki, facing Fukuda, shock in his eyes. “Shit, the nerve … talk about eating my own words. Of everyone I've got to be the one who knows how much no one listening abysmally sucks. I mean, especially when everyone thinks you're screwed up and crazy … which turns out to be true anyway. Fact remains, it's not like you and I have a whole lotta options. Most of the guards don't give a shit, they got things to do. And these guys? The id wells are their task … ” He hung his head and shook it. “I'm sorry, I should have listened to you. And instead I've been nothing but a jackass to you.”

Cautiously, Fukuda met his gaze. “I wasn't talking about drilling a hole. I know, you told me earlier that was out. But seriously, listen to yourself, man. Have you worked through anything at all?”

That gaze grew uncomfortable, only because he had asked the question that Narihisago didn't want to answer. The bald faced truth.

Fukuda pointed in triplicate, excitement in his half open eyes that didn't quite reach his voice. “See? That's it. Anyone would be a wreck carrying that kinda shit for—what's it been, like three years? Haha, there's your problem, oh brilliant detective. You gotta open up.”

“Uhhh … ” He took a step back, his pulse beginning to throb. “Not a great idea. Nobody wants to hear this shit.”

“Ehhh, you never know. Someone might.” He shrugged offering a crooked smile. “Either way, you need therapy and could probably use a friend, brother.”

Narihisago tightened his fist. “Don't call me that.”

“I've noticed you have a serious aversion to that word. What's up with that?”

“Because … ” The glance toward Momoki's tense face was swift. He hoped no one caught it before he forced his eyes back to his trembling fist. “I don't have a brother.”

That forced lie cut as deep as a physical wound. From the corner of his eye he could see Momoki's staggered step backward, his breath paused in a tense throat. _Don't say it … don't shame yourself, Momoki. Don't compromise yourself for a wasted life like mine._ _ **You**_ _are still a detective,_ _ **you**_ _are still respectable. Keep it that way … brother._

Shrugging it off, Fukuda stepped around the chair. “You got it. Nix on the b-word. But that leads to another question.”

“Okay, do I want to know?”

Fukuda held out a hand, and quirked an eyebrow. “You'll … you'll be my friend?”

Narihisago forced down a pained expression. “Don't push it … Gah!”

Grabbing him in a bear hug, Fukuda crowed, “I knew you weren't that much of a cold-hearted bastard! Everyone needs a friend!”

Narihisago growled, “Fukuda! If you don't let me go right now I'm knocking you back into a coma.”

Gingerly Fukuda set him down and took a step back, looking giddy … well, for him.

“Dial it back a bit. What are you, like five years old?”

He looked at his shoe scrapping across the floor.

The realization struck Narihisago. _Has he never actually had a friend before?_

The walkie talkie crackled. _“Uhhh … hello? Guys, can you hear me?”_ It was Hagashi nervously calling over the line. _“Hope this is still on the same frequency.”_

Shiratake held theirs up and pressed the button. “We're here. What's going on?”

“ _Phew! Good to hear you guys!”_

Everyone stared at Shiratake waiting for the update. When nothing more came, at last he hit the button, “Did you find the bomb?”

“ _Oh yeah, Soma froze that thing solid through some trick he saw in a movie.”_

Wakashika threw his hands in the air. “See? See! Sometimes that stuff works! Hahaha!”

Leaning forward Momoki gestured for Shiratake to open the channel again. “Did you find the chief? Is he alright?”

A different voice came over the line. _“They sure did. Other than a bit of bruising, I'm ok. What's Kura's status?”_

“Glad to hear your voice, Kokufu.” Momoki gave a relieved smile. But his gaze darted to Narihisago as he heaved a sigh. “Hirai has been taken care of. Much of the staff is still locked up, so we need to get them out. As for us, we're more or less ok. I … I have a lot of explaining to do. And you'll probably need to hire a serious cleaning crew for your office.”

“Sorry.” Narihisago muttered.

“ _Wait … you're in my office? Did I just hear Narihisago … in my office?”_

Momoki cleared his throat. “I said I had a lot of explaining to do. But that can wait til we get the building cleared.”

Soma's voice broke over, _“By the way, we found the guy who seized our weapons. Oh, and I got a pair of bolt cutters.”_

Kokufu continued, _“First we need to get tech out so they can deal with EMP damage, fix communications. At least it seems like the Mizuhanome is shielded. Would have been bad to have a repeat of that disaster.”_

“Agreed. See you soon, Kokufu.” Momoki turned to the inmates. “I promise, there will be further discussion.”

“About what?” Narihisago shrugged in return. “There's little point to engage in fruitless deliberations.”

“What about your life, Narihisago?”

He just stood there staring with dull eyes.

Momoki declared, “You're clearly miserable.”

“So, what? I'm a convicted felon. This _is_ the rest of my life. To be controlled because I am incapable of controlling myself. Here is your proof.” He held up his wrists offering them for security to cuff him.

Itoh waved a guard forward. A guard, Narihisago realized with a chill, who would only prove his point all too clearly. There was an unpleasant history with Yamane. One that he would never let be forgotten.

Yamane thrust a finger toward the floor. “I don't think so. Not in front.” Harshly he declared, “On your knees, scumbag! **Now**!”

For a long moment, Narihisago stared him in the eyes. _Why now? Why this damn level of shame in front of everyone?_ When the pointed gesture was repeated, he swallowed his already tattered pride and started to slowly lower himself down, as always trying to keep his motions non-threatening to avoid further force.

It wasn't fast enough. Yamane seized the back of his neck and shoved him down, grabbing one of his wrists and wrenching it toward the small of his back despite the gasps from the Wellside team.

_Crap! Someone help me!_

But no one said anything to interrupt this degradation. No one spoke as Yamane roughly clamped the cuffs onto his wrists behind his back. “I'll _never_ let you forget what you did.” His fingernails dug into Narihisago's bare skin earning the guard a prized hiss.

Fukuda took a step forward. “Hey man! In case you forgot, he just saved all our skins!”

“I wonder if he remembers when he gave me this?”

Narihisago recalled all too well when in a fit of uncontrollable rage he'd used a pair of cuffs as a makeshift set of brass knuckles and struck him across the bridge of his nose, temporarily blinding him in his own blood. That had been a particularly bad day … one that rivaled today.

Yanking Narihisago's hair to raise his head, Yamane spat. “The guard I was on duty with the day he decided to go ballistic is still a paraplegic because of a broken neck. I ain't givin' this asshole an inch no matter what anyone says. So forgive me, I don't have a warm fuzzy feeling for the hero of the day.”

Only two people in this room could spare him from this humiliation. Itoh, that lazy ass, wouldn't bother to say a word. Out of the corner of his eyes, Narihisago caught Momoki standing there motionless, mimicking a gold fish. No hope there either. Any attempt on his part to halt this wretched treatment would only make his situation worse.

Another guard cuffed Fukuda, still standing while Narihisago remained forced into humiliating submission. There wasn't a damn thing he dared do as his forehead was shoved against the carpeted floor. He didn't even try a vain attempt to shrug Yamane from leaning on his back making it harder to breathe. All he wanted now was a bit of quiet time in his cell. Just to be left alone for a while. But this was now going to be an irritating, over-handled journey down the stairs.

Narihisago stared at the floor inches from his face as more than a tense minute ticked onward. He felt the weight of all those eyes on him, the burden of their gazes as any veil that had hidden his shameful truth shredded. Now any illusion of the status of their pilot had been entirely dismantled.

Yamane roughly hauled him to his feet. “Off to solitary for you.”

“Wa … wait.” Momoki found his voice at last. “Take both of them to their own cells. I need to speak with the chief first.”

“But he … ,” Yamane gestured to Hirai.

“You have your orders.” It was shaky, but firm enough to stand.

“Alright … fine. Pull rank.”

Narihisago hesitated for a moment, risking Yamane's wrath as the man tried to drag him further. For all the guard's bluster, Narihisago was stronger. He turned back to Momoki and offered him a quick glance before lowering his eyes back to the floor. “Don't shoulder the guilt, let me do that. At least I don't really feel it.”

That … was a lie.


	12. Chapter 12

“Yamane. Hold on for a second before you put him in.” Itoh had accompanied them down to the cell blocks. An amusing procession, at least to Fukuda. Three guards, two cooperating restrained prisoners, and the head of security, the latter following at a marked distance. All of them unarmed.

Fukuda halted outside the open door of his own cell as his guard stopped and turned in a bit of surprise clearly uncertain of what to do. The wise thing in his hole-riddled mind was remain placid and watch this new development. Across the hall, Narihisago stood facing outward with his wrists still cuffed behind him, one guard gripped each of his arms. He stared straight ahead, eyes unfocused, jaw clenched tight.

Well anyone would be discomforted with Itoh's inspecting gaze boring into them. Fukuda was quite content that he hadn't gained level of attention. The head of security leaned forward, scrutinizing Narihisago. At last staring him straight in the eye.

Narihisago met the gaze for a moment before his eyes darted away.

Cocking his head Itoh rubbed his chin. “So, you're the prize possession of Kura. You're the crazy killer down here, the one whose words can kill?”

He didn't acknowledge the remark, instead looking down toward where the wall met the floor.

“Hey, I asked you a question. You answer me.”

He blinked slowly and forced a nod. That was his answer to a rather rude question. Fukuda had to give him credit for not hitting the guy.

“Sounds like a pack of bullshit, you ask me. Not even that imposing. Just a typical piece of shit convict. I don't believe for a minute that there's anything special about you.”

Before Fukuda realized it, he spoke, “He's done it twice in front of me. Never laid a finger on them.” _Wait, why am I attracting attention to myself? Too late now._

Itoh didn't even turn. “Was anyone talking to you, Hole Boy?”

“Uhhh not really, but … ”

“Then shut it!”

_Well that was uncalled for, I was just trying to be helpful._

Narihisago remained rigid under the scrutiny. 

Wrinkling his brow, Yamane's scar from the event deepened as he scowled. “Trust me, Itoh, what you heard is true. He's pulled that trick a number of times. Don't let him learn too much about you. He might try to pull it on you.”

“Are you a serial killer?” Narihisago locked eyes with Itoh. 

He laughed. “Certainly not.”

Turning that deadpan gaze to Yamane he replied dryly, “He's got nothing to worry about.”

“Yeah, my scar and a friend's busted neck say different, you fuckwad. Boss, you done? I'm tellin' yah, I'd feel better to have him confined before he makes trouble.”

Itoh took his time before he nodded. “Lock 'em in, boys. We got work to do, like freeing  _real_ valuable folks instead of wasting time with deadbeats.”

Fukuda's guard made short work of removing the cuffs and closing the door to his cell. From inside, Fukuda watched as Yamane forced Narihisago against the side wall, one hand on the back of his head drawing out a wince.

Yamane worked the key into the cuffs and snarled through clenched teeth, “Stay put! Move even one muscle and I'll drop you the floor. Got it?”

There wasn't an answer, but he didn't move. Still, the tension in his eyes was enough as Yamane grabbed the first unlocked wrist and pressed it against the wall in front of his face. The second off to the other side of his head. Narihisago visibly exercised extraordinary will not to strike that little prick.

“Keep them up there til I say otherwise!”Yamane backed out of the cell. Two guards and the head of security watched as the door slid shut. Secured.

Without another word, all four of them walked off.

Narihisago waited for a full minute before he pushed off the wall and slammed his fist against the panel. Fury in his eyes. 

The thud startled Fukuda, but he mastered himself enough not to jump. Across the hall he observed the breaking storm and began to wonder if Narihisago's wells were able to morph one into the other. Had the lightning well re-emerged?  _Now that would be interesting._

Narihisago leaned his head back, a determined snarl on his face, in a flash he surged forward. Instantly Fukuda knew his intention, to drive his head into the wall.

“Whoa! Easy! Hey—don't do that!” Fukuda pressed his hands against the barrier, helpless to do anything if his words couldn't reach the poor bastard.

To his relief, he stopped a fraction of an inch from doing it. After a tense pause, with his fingers forming claws against the panel, he dropped his forehead into the wall that final fraction in a harmless dull thump.

“Phew … you really had me there for a moment. I mean, doesn't your head already hurt? How is a concussion going to help? Jeez, the guards here sure do treat you like shit.”

Abandoning the wall, Narihisago shuffled over to his sink and scrubbed the blood off his face, drying it off with his shirt. “Yeah, kinda goes with the territory of being locked up for the sake of the rest of the damned world.”

Fukuda mused, “Not like the way the Well Director treats you. There is something about you and Momoki, bro... ehhh, Narihisago.” He caught himself before he used that word. After all, he was trying to set ground work, now that he had seen a glimpse beyond the melancholy facade. No doubt about it, his cell block mate wasn't at all as sure-footed as he'd been trying to pull off. There was so much more turbulence beneath the surface that he was floundering. It brought a slight unexpected chill to Fukuda as he recalled the corpse in the quick sand. He spoke,trying to buck it off, “You know each other, but it's deeper than just a passing thing.”

Narihisago sat down on the edge of his bed leaning onto his elbows. “Back when I was a homicide detective on the force he'd been my partner.”

There it was, that underlying connection. “Ah, that explains so much! So you were colleagues. Awesome.”

He cupped his head. “Were...”

“But if that's the case, where are all the photos of you two working together?” Slowly Fukuda's satisfied smile faded as it dawned on him. “Oh, I get it … that's the reason you're in here. You stepped over the line and became the pariah. So, no more friends. After that no one wanted to be associated with you anymore because you were tainted.”

He nodded, but didn't reply. He flopped backward and rolled into bed, facing the wall.

“So ah … ”

“Fukuda,” his voice was a tense plea, “I really need to lie down for a bit, ok? I know I said we'd talk and shit … but I just can't right now.”

Fukuda's hand slipped down the pane. His heart sank a bit. On the cusp of getting somewhere, of forging a kinship for the first time in his life and this was the answer he got. A cold shoulder.

A strange sound tore him from his thoughts. A movement caught his attention. Subtle though it was, even facing away he could see Narihisago bring his hands up to cover his face. Both of them. The sound? A muted shuddering sobbing.

Fukuda turned and trudged to his bed, lying on his back he cradled his head in his hands. He heaved a sigh. _Am I ever gonna get this right, or just keep fucking it up every time I try?_

His stomach growled, filling the silence. _Damn, hope they remember that we didn't get breakfast down here. Course they probably got other things on their minds … kinda like him._ He watched and listened for a long moment. Something rather sad about a grown man reduced to tears. _I really got to get him talking before he resorts to bashing his skull in again. How many times can a guy do that before it does serious damage?_

_**~ID~** _

Kokufu lingered by the edge of his desk, peering behind it with an eyebrow perked. Cupping a hand over his mouth in thought he glanced to Momoki on the opposite side of the desk. “You weren't joking about needing a cleaning service.”

Momoki interlaced his fingers behind his back in the slight discomfort of the chief's revelation.

Sighing, Kokufu walked back around to join him, remarkably composed, considering. “I think we'll conduct our meeting in another room for now. How about the Wellside office, if you don't mind.”

“Not at all.” Momoki gestured for him to lead the way. “This looks like it's going to be a long day. I sent the others to help security release the rest of the staff around the building. So far no one is allowed to approach the exits until the booby traps have been handled.”

“Good call.” Kokufu pushed the elevator button. “Today is certainly going to be one for the sealed files.”

“That goes without saying.”

The elevator doors opened.

At last they arrived down in the Wellside office, a good deal smaller than the chief's. Momoki had a corner desk relatively devoid of knickknacks. That left far more room to spread out any hard-copy files. Unlike the Wellside's high-tech, this area held the appearance of a typical office with regular flat screened computers and file cabinets. A few of the desks held an array of items. Wakashika's desk the most obvious, displaying an array of action figures from various movies with a stash of energy drinks below. That man had about the worst diet imaginable.

Momoki gestured to a desk chair for Kokufu as he took his own. He set the walkie talkie on the desk between them. Already others were being collected from the bodies of Hirai's squad around the building forming a make-shift system until they could leave the building and obtain new cell phones. The occasional chatter across their only current communication line alerted them to the slow process of restoring Kura. Beleaguered techs were already bemoaning the use of an EMP within the building. The timeline to get everything back up kept extending by every curse.

Kokufu relaxed into the chair and rubbed his wrist absently. “Alright, so we have a lot to discuss, clearly. The first of which is, is everyone on your staff ok?”

“More or less.”

The earned him a quirked brow. “Cryptic. What's that supposed to mean?”

Momoki heaved a sigh. “Maybe it's better if I go over what happened.”

By the time he finished recounting the events, they had gone through three cups of strong coffee each. Kokufu set his empty mug down. “So, let me get this straight. You purposefully unlocked the cockpit chamber door and released two inmates into the upper halls to mix with unknown intruders.”

Now that he heard it stated aloud, the idea didn't seem quite so sound. “At the time it was a split second decision. I was counting on Narihisago. I fully admit that I had forgotten about Fukuda at that precise moment. However, he did pick the lock to our door. It all worked out, neither one of them caused trouble.”

“There is a body in my office.”

Momoki flicked a hand. “Except for that little detail … which leads me to something else. We need to talk about Narihisago and the future of the Mizuhanome.”

“That's putting it mildly. I am quite alarmed about the details of what has transpired. Where is he right now?”

“I had security put them both back in their cells until we could come to a decision. Solitary doesn't feel like the right reaction this time.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Not too long ago that wouldn't have been discussed. It was practically protocol.”

“I know.”

“You're wavering because of what he said to you, that it does no good.”

“It's not just that.” Momoki wrapped his hands around his empty mug, if only for something to occupy them. “It was watching him the whole time. Realizing how we've been treating them—all the inmates down there. Under Hayaseura they were locked up and necessities met. Nothing more. Frankly, Narihisago's underlying condition had been entirely ignored this whole time. By Kura, by Hayaseura, by me … we just used him and ignored the consequences. The process was certainly tested before he arrived here. But no single pilot ever underwent the number of dives he has over such a long course of time. There is an impact, one he never mentioned before.”

Kokufu folded his hands in the silence. “Do you feel we need pull him from the pilot program?”

For a moment, Momoki considered nodding. But he couldn't commit to it. That wasn't the solution. “I think we owe him a serious look into what's going on. Consider his file, there is no official diagnosis, they just … gave up. We know … especially after today, he's truly mentally ill. I believe he is suffering far more than he lets on. There must be something we can do.”

“You're right. We can't just keep things as Hayaseura set them up. Clearly there was some neglect. So, let's get down to it. Where should we start?” Kokufu grabbed a pen and paper to Momoki's surprise waiting for him to suggest.

“Sir … I … ”

Kokufu tapped the pen to the paper. “Well, you interact with the inmates the most, what do we need to do?”

The words left him almost without thought, “Help them.” That was the easy part. The hard? _How?_

_**~ID~** _

This place was quiet. Too quiet. As he stared at the back of his eyelids, a vague ringing filled Fukuda's ears just for something to listen to, aside from the distant yowling of one of the inmates in another cell block. Another guy who could probably use a hole in his head from the sound of it. This had been a long eventful day, and it wasn't even over. There was no way of knowing precisely what time of day it actually was—not that he minded _not_ having a clock. Not even mealtimes had marked it. Hunger growls had subsided when it seemed his stomach figured out he couldn't answer it. He certainly wasn't expecting a full, multi-course meal. The staff was probably still reeling from the events, it had only been a handful of hours since they'd been escorted down to the cells. But the least they could have done was sent down some leftovers or something. No one had come, even on a regular patrol.

… _real valuable folks instead of wasting time with deadbeats._

Forgotten about. Now that was familiar.

The distant sound of footsteps edged him out of his thoughts. At first they seemed to be in his mind. But the persistence and the change in tone, getting closer, teased his eyes open a crack. Moments later a familiar shadow stood between the cells.

Momoki. The guy stood stiff, staring toward the rear wall between the cells, unwilling to look into Narihisago's.

Fukuda scratched the side of his nose. The motion caught Momoki's attention, earning him a glance. He raised a hand and waved. “Yo.”

He flicked a half-hearted wave before very slowly turning toward the opposite cell. His nerves were all over his body language. The guy could have been a violin string, fit to be plucked.

Across the way, Narihisago lay on his right side, facing the wall. Still slightly curled as he had been when sleep claimed him. He hadn't so much as stirred. If he was honest, Fukuda pitied the poor bastard. No wonder his sleep was so often disturbed if he was stuck early in grinding edge of the grieving cycle. By the sounds of it he had barely even started. Over the years that kind of shit really wears away, at least he'd read that in some useless self-help book some years before putting the hole in his head. He sighed just thinking about all the things he'd tried before he discovered success.

Momoki's voice was hollow over his shoulder, “Did he just fall asleep?”

Fukuda kept his voice down. “Nah, he's been out for hours now.”

He slumped a bit. “Maybe I should come back.”

Issuing half a shrug while still laying on his back, he replied, “Or maybe you should just get it over with. The guy's already had a bad day. Just tell him whatever it is, can it really make things any worse?”

The expression that briefly escaped him told it all and brought Fukuda to a sitting position on the edge of his bed.

“Wait … it can? Whoa … what happened? He get solitary for like the rest of the year?”

“No. He might actually prefer that.” Momoki sighed, his hands fidgeted at his sides. Clenching his eyes tight, he opened them after a pause and called out his name.

_**~ID~** _

“Narihisago.”

He'd heard his name more than once tugging him out of the dark quiet void he had sunk into. Gradually he opened his eyes, inhaling deeper before lifting his head enough to glance over his shoulder. He wasn't hearing things. Momoki actually stood outside the cell, alone. And he had nervous plastered all over a calm facade.

“Please, I need to talk to you.”

Wearily, Narihisago pushed up from the bed, rolling on his hip to face the front. His body protested, longing to lie there, not quite ready. But he forced it with a groan. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he slouched with his elbows on his knees.

“Are you listening?”

Deadpan he muttered, “You wanna talk, talk.”

Momoki swallowed, his restless eyes struggled to remain in one spot. They kept slipping from Narihisago. “The chief and I had a long talk. You won't be going to solitary.”

There was a pause as if he expected a reaction, a response of some kind other than just the stare he received. He got nothing.

Exhaling out his nose, he flexed a hand at his side. “Furthermore, there are going to be some changes to Kura. We have noted some rather terrible oversights and will be making efforts to correct them.”

Nerves were showing pushing him to adopt the more business toned speech pattern. The shield he tended to use to cover his vulnerabilities. This meant there was something that really had him on edge, more so than earlier.

“First and foremost there is the situation with the guards and their handling of compliant prisoners. You need to speak up when they are mishandling you.”

“You think they listen to me?” Narihisago huffed a breath, that very notion was laughable. “You have the wrong perspective of things down here. Unlike you, who still sees me as a colleague, on this side of the pane I'm viewed as nothing different then the scumbags we're chasing. Treating me like shit is what they deem as part of their job. Besides, you aren't the head of security. You're job is Well Director.”

“My job is make sure we get the best information we can from the dives. That means I can't let my most effective pilot be compromised. So yeah, it is part of my job. We need to address these issues. I'm not a psychic, you have to talk to me, Narihisago.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Speaking of you being honest with me.” The facade slipped, his eyes tightened. “You lied to me earlier. In the office, telling me that you don't feel guilt. That's bullshit. Honesty is everything to you. How could you even suggest that?”

Somehow he kept his dull gaze level, but he wanted to look away from the concern Momoki displayed. He wished this wasn't happening now. Not when he was half awake.

“No answer, huh? Well, I know I'll hear something about **this**.” Shaking his head, he flexed a hand at his side. “Narihisago, for the foreseeable future you are being pulled from duty as a Mizuhanome pilot.”

Before he even realized it he was standing, it felt like a bucket of ice cold water had been thrown at him including the bucket. “No—why?”

Momoki's gaze hardened. “You are seriously sick and only getting worse. We will be tapping resources to get an accurate diagnosis and proper treatment for you.”

Staggering to the barrier, Narihisago tried to even his breathing. “Don't do this! What about the id wells who will—”

“As soon as we can reach Hondomachi we will ask her to cover for now.”

His hand pressed the barrier. “Momoki, no! You can't do this to me. I need a sense of purpose! Those dives are all I have!”

The expression didn't soften, if anything it grew harder. “You're not even able to prioritize things right. These dives are eroding your stability.”

“It's a waste of time. They never were able to help me.”

“It's been a while. Procedures have changed, technology is different. Maybe there is something we can do now that couldn't be before.” He closed his eyes. “This isn't up for discussion. It's a direct order from the chief. You _will_ undergo testing and treatment.”

Slowly Narihisago dragged his hand as he sank down against the panel to the floor. The sheer weight of a choice, once more out his hands, stole his ability to stand. Did Momoki have even the faintest idea what he was committing him to? Was he still a _friend_?

“Narihisago, please. We're only trying to help you.”

“Just go.” Speaking toward the floor, he loathed how his voice trembled.

“But … ”

“If you're not going to listen …” Through the dread he couldn't even find the strength to lift his head, to face Momoki. “ … just leave me alone.”

“I'm serious.” Momoki's hand touched the barrier on the other side, matching where his hand remained for balance.

“So am I … have you ever endured the side-effects of an anti-psychotic?”

“No.”

He shivered at the memories. “Then you don't have even the faintest idea what you're suggesting. Especially when they're the wrong kind and amount to torture … all the tests, the repeated failures … all those false hopes. All it did was drive me further … all while you watched!” His hand clawed at the pane. “And you want me to do it all again so _you_ can feel better?”

Momoki leaned close to the pane, just on the other side, hand pressed to where Narihisago's was. His voice just barely audible through the barrier. “I want my friend to no longer suffer … I have not forgotten that I still have a brother.”

Narihisago's eyes shut tight.

“I'm sorry it came to this.” He stood up. “I'll be back when we're ready to proceed. You're not going through this alone.”

Several minutes passed after the footsteps receded before Narihisago allowed his weight to fall back into a seated position. He shifted around, left shoulder to the clear pane, back against the wall, effectively sitting in the front corner of his cell. Drawing his knees up, he rested his forehead there just trying to keep from hyperventilating as his brain ran through all the previous crap he'd been put through.

“Normies, puh.” Across the cell block, Fukuda sat on the floor leaning against the wall in a mirrored fashion. A crooked grin on his uneven features. “Always thinkin' of the quick fix. Like a pill or a bunch of daily affirmations can just make it all magically disappear and turn us into perfect citizens.”

He laid his head back and stared vaguely at the ceiling. “Sure would be nice.”

“Not your experience is it.”

“Not even remotely.”

He chuckled low. “Me neither. Only found one way, but I suppose it's not for everyone. Anyway, my point is your friend there don't know shit about what it's like to be like us. No frame of reference. It's why he's not much help. Probably thinks all you need to do lighten up and smile more.”

Narihisago cracked a half-hearted grin.

“There, see? Everything's better, right?” He laid his own head back, cocked so he could look across the corridor at Narihisago. “That's what normies think, only we know it isn't. Shit doesn't just go away like that … scars don't fade with grins and glitter. Life has screwed both of us hard and put us away wet.”

“No shit, and it had a name. Hayaseura.” His nails dug into his skin through the jumpsuit joining the marks that Yamane's had already left on him. A strange saying wandered through his thoughts. “It takes the broken to fix the broken.”

Fukuda's eyes lost a bit of their light. His fingers played with the hem of his sleeve. “It really does … at least I think so. I mean, I tried. But I guess I got it wrong. And the truth is even before that shadow man showed up I was already a hot mess. You … you're a different story.”

“I don't think this is a competition. Does it really matter how we end up on this side of sanity?”

“It might.” He stared at his own hands. “You … had a family … one that loved you … and they were taken away.”

Narihisago tightened a fist in tandem with the pressure growing around his heart. “Please—stop.”

Fukuda winced, turning his face away. “Sorry. It's just … I wanted to know … what it was like?”

The question was so strange, he wasn't certain he understood. “What was what like?”

“Having a family ...” his voice was so quiet, “no one ever loved me.”

“Could be the trying to drill holes in them.”

He sullenly replied, “Touche.”

The words sunk in around the mild attempt at gallows humor, Narihisago swallowed. His id well making more sense by the second. The fractured world all in pieces, his victims forced to live together even photographed as a family. “ … your family abandoned you, didn't they.”

Fukuda folded into himself, the nod barely perceptive. “When I was a young boy they left me in the middle of an out-of-town festival. I couldn't find my way back home. When the police officers took me home they pretended I ran off. The moment the door closed my parents told me I was supposed to stay lost, they didn't want to deal with my problem anymore. I've been screwed up my whole life, nothing but an inconvenience. A week later they did it again … that time, I didn't even try to go back. I stayed … lost. Alone. Tossed through the system.”

The pain resonated in his downcast gaze enough that Narihisago felt it. He searched for words but nothing seemed to be enough. Fukuda had been a child, an innocent boy, reliant on them. “That was … unforgivable.”

“Your parents, are they still alive?”

“Should be. They were when I was arrested, anyway. I didn't get back over to that prefecture very often, so I didn't see them much after I left for the academy.” Narihisago let his eyes wander over the photos on his wall. “The last time I spoke to them … was at the funeral.”

Fukuda glanced sideways through the strands of hair. “Do they still … you know ...”

Narihisago shook his head. “I doubt it. Not after the shame I brought on myself just days later. I was their only child, and at one point seemed like I was the center of their lives. But it wouldn't surprise me if I've been disowned to save their face. An extreme measure, considering I was supposed to care for them in their old age … kinda hard to do that when I can't even take care of myself. ” He lapsed into silence.

Fukuda idly tapped the pane with his knuckle three time. “You got a problem with failure.”

Narihisago nodded. “Always have.”

“If I had a drill I could fix that for you.”

He eyed him “Yeah, I think I'll pass. I've had enough of people trying to mess with my head, thank you. But it looks like I'm about to be subjected to more of that useless shit.”

“Hey, all they wanna do is help you out.”

“If only … all previous efforts ever managed to do was leave me worse off. I wish they'd just leave things alone.”

“To be honest, you're not in a great place to make that judgment. From where I'm sitting you are seriously in need of something before you blow. Trust me, it's gonna come out one way or another eventually. Venting is better than … ” Fukuda made an explosive gesture with his hands accompanied by a sound effect.

Narihisago bowed his head, his scraggly hair a lame-ass shield. “I'm not ready.”

“When you are, you have a captive audience.” He gave a cheesy grin.

Unable to resist it, Narihisago gave a wry laugh. “I can't believe it, you actually have your shit together better than I do.”

“Yeah, well, I've also been dealing with it far longer than you. Came to terms with it.” He pointed at the hole in his head. “A bit messy, bit it did do the trick.”

“You're still a screw job.”

“Ok, I'll give you that. But I'm a lot more relaxed about it. Unlike Mr. Anger Issues when the pressure comes on.”

Narihisago cringed and rested his forehead on his knees.

“Time to change the subject. We gotta talk about something. Nothing else to do to the fill the time. And you just got a whole lotta free time. What was my id well like?”

“Nice try. But I'm not telling you that.”

“No fair. I really want to know. You know what yours is like.”

Narihisago shook his head with a weary smile. “Seriously, just drop it. Maybe Hondomachi will tell you if you ask real nice.”

“Jeeze, you're a hard ass.” Suddenly he sat up. “Hey, I know, tell me about your old cases, the ones when you were a homicide detective.”

“Why would you want to hear about those?”

“Why not? Heck, might inspire me to be a more useful brilliant detective in the dives. If they ever let me again. If they retire you maybe I can take your place.”

“Not exactly something to aspire to.” Leaning back against the wall, Narihisago half closed his eyes. “Story time it is. Wonder if any of these are still classified? Heh, doubt it matters. Screw it, my name's not even on them anymore.”

“You were serious about that? They legit stripped your name?”

“There may be some hard copies with my handwriting somewhere, but everything's digital now-a-days. Yeah, Matsuoka told me they replaced it with 'the detective'. Really rubbed it in my face when he did. Swear he stopped by the prison just for that. It sucks, but I guess it was easier for the department than dealing with the fallout if the truth about me ever found the light of day. Hell, if any of this is classified who are you gonna tell from in here anyway?”

“Exactly. So, what we got first?”

Narihisago folded his hands in his lap. “I think you'll like this one. The Pinhole Case.”

“Ooo, holes!”

“See? You like it already.”


	13. Chapter 13

“So,” Wakashika leaned on an elbow at their corner booth and muttered without enthusiasm, “three analysts walk into a bar … ”

Habutae and Shiratake barely reacted to the lame attempt to break the tension as they stared down into their drinks in the deserted establishment. Usually a team trip to the bar would entail ordering something fun or interesting, especially Wakashika who seemed to enjoy mixed drinks. Today after the sun had set and they finally got clearance to leave Kura without the risk of getting blown up, they all kept it simple. The beer that was on tap. And all three nursed their pints.

At length Wakashika took a sip of his and set it down. “You think Momoki and Togo will join us?”

Shiratake cleaned his glasses for the eighteenth time. “He said something about finishing up and they'd be over. Apparently he needs to talk to us. To be honest, he's probably more spent than we are.”

Habutae rubbed his knees beneath the table. “Why does the building have to have so many floors? I hadn't been to most of them before.”

“Like the morgue?”

He shuddered at Shiratake's bland delivery. “Yeah. Did you know there was one?”

They both shook there heads.

“I mean, it makes sense and all, we are part of law enforcement, but still.” Picking up his beer he tried to wash the memory of the taste from his mouth.

Wakashika turned his pint glass slowly, watching the foam. “Do you think that scent is present in the well dives? The dead body smell? I mean, Sakaido never seems to react to it.”

“Probably used to it.” Shiratake shrugged. “How many corpses has he come across by now?”

Habutae cocked his head. “Guys, remember Narihisago was a homicide detective alongside Momoki, they probably encountered it for real.”

“Encountered what for real?” Momoki and Togo stood beside the booth, both as weary as the rest of the crew.

As they settled into the booth a waitress came and got their orders. The trend continued, they all kept it simple. Beer. Once she left, Habutae cleared his throat, “We were talking about the scent we encountered … in the morgue.”

Wrinkling his nose, Momoki tensed for a moment. “Gah, you never do forget the rank of decomposition. Yeah, we had quite a few cases in the field where we came across an older crime scene. Some of which were rather grisly.”

Wakashika leaned forward. “Did you get used to it?”

“Sort of. More or less learned to hold my breath.” He cocked a slight grin. “Usually didn't have to get too close, though. Narihisago was typically the one who did that part.”

They all blinked. Togo took his hand beneath the table.

The waitress delivered their beers and left them in their corner booth with an invitation to holler if they needed anything. After a gulp of his beer Momoki shook his head. “Those were very different days with more traditional methods and much slower results. Cases took weeks to months, and some went cold despite our determination. Not like now, where if we can get those cognition particles, in a matter of hours to a handful of days we inevitably stop them in their tracks. Sometimes before the next kill.” The light in his eyes faded a bit. His finger tracing up and down the glass disturbing the condensation.

Shiratake tapped a hand on the table. “Sir, you said you had something important to tell us?”

He started for a moment before taking a deep breath. “Yeah … sorry, it's been a long day. I don't really know how to put this any other way. But … uhh, Kokufu and I deliberated long and hard about this. It's hard to even say this—we're benching Narihisago from diving for a while.”

Stunned stares greeted him, even Togo whom he hadn't had the chance to tell yet. Her pulse quickened in his hand.

Wakashika sat bolt upright. “You can't do that! He's our main pilot! Sakaido's the one to get the job done. We can't just do this with anyone. We need him.”

Momoki took a large gulp to steel his nerves, still haunted by the expression he had received when he'd told Narihisago. “We already arranged it, Hondomachi has stepped up. We'll be relying on her exclusively for the interim.”

“Sir, not that she's bad or anything,” Habutae added, “but the team is truly calibrated to Sakaido. The fact is, Narihisago is a full part of our team.”

“Narihisago is in serious need of help.” He couldn't even look up as he said it. “He will be quite busy with the medical team as they try to get to the bottom of his underlying condition that Kura has ignored for the benefit of solving crimes. Kokufu and I disagree with how Hayaseura handled things. For over a year now Narihisago has been working with an un-diagnosed psychosis, possibly more than one. You all witnessed today how unstable he is. Hayaseura was content to overlook that. We are not. Narihisago may be a convict, but he is still a human being. He should not be subjected to suffering from a condition that should be treated.”

Togo gave his hand a hidden squeeze. “We can give him what he needs. If today was any indication it's past time for that.”

“He … isn't pleased with this decision.” Shoulders sagging, Momoki talked more into the beer foam than to his staff. “In fact, I would say he wants nothing to do with it. I feel like a traitor to him—again. Back then I didn't have the authority as I watched them give up leaving him a wreck. Now I have the authority, I can get him help and he's … he feels betrayed.”

Shiratake held up a hand. “Today has been rather rough. It may have more to do with that. Perhaps on another day things would be different.”

Habutae nodded. “To be honest, we all knew a bit about his past, and even the pushed suicides, but until today what I imagined about him ...” his eyes opened a bit wider, “that didn't match reality. Especially when the guy had a full on breakdown in front of us.”

“Did you see what that guard did to him?” Wakashika leaned on one elbow. “Seriously not cool. I mean, if that happened to me repeatedly I don't think I would stay calm and just accept it. Fukuda was actually right, Narihisago saved our asses, and that guard actually left nail scratches on him.”

“That will be handled. Kokufu knows the identity of the guard. He's going to be transferred with a reprimand. That was not acceptable, even though I know that Narihisago can be a handful. Today, he wasn't. Today he acted in our best interests at the risk of his own life. As I am the one the purposefully unlocked the cockpit chamber, I am taking full responsibility for his actions.”

Wakashika folded his arms. “Hey, what was that about his parents not visiting? I mean, that's terrible.”

Momoki stopped him with a slash of his hand through the air. “Don't, you have no idea about them.”

“Dude, it's still cold as hell.”

“They're old fashioned. Honor to the Narihisago name is very important in their prefecture. Trust me, they were actually doting parents. When Akihito plead guilty and was declared a felon they had no real choice but to cut ties with him. That cost of that was dear.”

Habutae sat up straighter. “He said he had no brother … if he was an only child, that means they're not taken care of like traditional families rely on. That is a serious impact. Momoki, … have you spoken to them?”

“Not in years.” He sighed. “The last time was when I called them with the news about his arrest and results of the trial.”

Togo picked up on it. “Maybe it's time to give them an update. Let them know about what's going on.”

The very idea set his nerves on edge. To let them know that he had killed not just once … but … and … he didn't even know where to begin.

“Not today.” She lifted her glass. “Save it for after we get Kura settled a bit. For tonight, a toast is in order. I never thought I would say this, but let's raise a glass for those not here with us, Narihisago and …” her smile turned a bit wry, “Fukuda. Without them we might not be here right now.”

“Here here!” They clinked their glasses.

In the cover of the chattering, Momoki whispered to Togo. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Giving me the idea.”

_**~ID~** _

The quaint house dwelt in the midst of an old farmstead. A brewery, no less. Momoki had known about it from Narihisago's nostalgic comments over the years, but he'd never seen the place for himself. The whole property was well tended with rice paddies for the small batches of sake his father was known for. He waited beneath a wooden awning for the door to open from his unannounced visit. Now he wondered if this had been wise at all.

What if they didn't want to hear anything? Instead of driving all the way to Fukui prefecture, maybe he should have called, then all it would have been was a hang up. Almost losing his nerve, he took a step back to leave when the door opened.

A small but feisty woman, Akihito's mother stood in the doorway, shock in her eyes. Passing behind her, his father paused with an unreadable expression. She gained her voice, “Funetaro Momoki. It's been a long while, what brings you all the way here?”

“As you said, Mrs. Narihisago, it's been awhile. May I come in?”

“Of course.” She opened the door wider.

Before entering, Momoki removed his shoes and traded them for a set of guest slippers. He followed Mrs. Narihisago into the living room. “Make yourself at home. I'll be right back with the tea. Do you still take it your usual way?”

He chuckled. “I've actually become more of a coffee drinker. But I will gladly take it however you would prefer to make it. Don't put yourself out on account of an unexpected visit.” That she had actually recalled such details after the few times they had come over to Tokyo, it was amazing. And truly, it sprang to mind that this must be where Akihito got his memory from … well, the functional memory, before the trauma tainted it.

The home was lovely and far more cozy than the one Momoki had grown up in. The rigidly traditional style of his family's property, in the more public parts, was cold and uninviting in his opinion. But it wasn't something he had the power to change. Expectations, the burden of being born to a family of stature. This place … though devoid of anything that spoke of their son, he could picture a young Akihito curled up in the corner by the packed bookcase reading from dawn until dusk having to be reminded repeatedly about mealtimes. Through the window he spied the old tree Akihito mentioned climbing to watch the birds hatch in the spring. There was even the tree house he and his father had built, though that was falling apart from neglect. So many memories shared with him back in the stabler days. When life was simpler and they were both on the same side of the law.

Where did he stand now? Where was it really? From day to day, moment to moment that remained questionable.

Mr. Narihisago followed her out of the kitchen and joined them to kneel at the table. She set out the tea with a soft smile. “We so rarely get company. And my dear, Funetaro, it's been ages.”

“Three years.”

“That qualifies as ages to a woman of my years.”

He took the offered tea cup with a slight bow. “I do apologize. Only recently did it come to my attention that I haven't stopped by.” Taking a sip he nodded. “This is as delightful as I remembered it.”

“Locally grown.” She sipped her own.

Mr. Narihisago had never been much of a talker. He lived by the rule that one spoke when there was reason, and not without it. Quietly he partook the tea, but his eyes watched Momoki with the intensity of a hawk, waiting to strike. It was almost like he anticipated Momoki was going to open an old wound.

Now or never. Placing the cup in the saucer to keep from spilling it, Momoki folded his hands in front of him. “I have come to speak with you about your son.”

Mr. Narihisago set his cup down a bit too sharply. “Who?”

_That was the reaction I was afraid of._

Mrs. Narihisago's hand hovered just above her chest. She darted a nervous glance toward her husband, who continued. “I have no son.”

“Please, let me say what I have to say about Akihito. Then, I promise I will go my way and if you wish to hear no more, I will honor your wish.”

His eyes hardened.

But she leaned forward before he could say another word. “Is he alright?”

Momoki heaved a sigh of relief. He had hoped the use of his name might break through. It had been a gamble. “That is a complicated answer.” Turning his attention to her, he summoned up all the practiced speeches he had run through on the drive here. And they all dissolved before they could reach his tongue. Forced to wing it he blurted out, “Akihito works with me at a special police unit where we use some amazing technology to catch serial killers. He's proven to be very skilled at it.”

“Well of course.” She smiled. “That's my bright boy for you. You know that was his passion, being a detective. And he's back to being one. How wonderful, he must be so happy to be out of prison.”

That statement caught his breath in his throat, he looked at his hands. “No. He's … he's still incarcerated. I'm just his handler … his supervisor.”

The joy fell from her eyes. “Oh … I see.”

Mr. Narihisago only gave a little grunt before sipping his tea.

“I'm sorry to tell you this, but in the light of recent events I think it's unlikely that status will ever change.” It haunted him, how convinced Akihito was that he couldn't be salvaged.

“Because of what he did.”

“No.” Momoki steeled himself for the hard part. “Because of his condition.”

She inhaled sharply covering her mouth. “Is he sick?”

“Sadly, yes. And getting worse. His duty is high pressure. Recently Akihito suffered a mental breakdown. Not the most serious I have ever seen in my life, but alarming, none-the-less.” He took a deep breath, knowing what he had to bring up. “After Muku and Ayako's deaths left him traumatized something happened to him. He changed … irreversibly. We have learned that someone influenced him to do what he did.”

She gripped her tea cup, it rattled against the saucer. “You mean when he killed that awful man that took my granddaughter and daughter-in-law.”

Momoki nodded. So far she was taking this rather well, and his father? Well, he remained a morose mask. But at least he hadn't left the room. “Unfortunately, even clearing his name with this new evidence would do no good.”

“And why not?”

“Because, Akihito's been left seriously mentally ill in the wake. Recent events have brought things to a head. Aware of his instability it cannot be overlooked that he would be a danger to society.”

His father grunted into his tea cup.

“Good heavens, why?”

Momoki rubbed his temple before he replied to her. “The truth is … ” he had to take a deep breath to loosen the tension growing in his chest, “ … he is criminally insane. He has some _very_ problematic tendencies I would rather not get into … but his inability to control these urges make him a threat. And right now, with his breakdown we're worried about what the past year has done to compound his illness.”

The edges of her eyes watered. “What's wrong with him?”

“We don't fully know. We're going to find out and get him the help he needs. I assure you, so at the very least instead of sitting idle in a prison cell, he can once more do what he always loved, solve mysteries.”

“And help innocent people.” She nodded curtly but couldn't suppress the sniffle. “That's my boy.”

He wasn't expecting that, and his voice cracked in his throat. “Yeah. I … wanna see that again too. It's going to be a tough time. But I thought you should know what's happening.”

“May we see him? Where he is now, can we visit?”

Slowly he shook his head. “At the moment his past is part of the problem, I wouldn't recommend a visit. However, once things settle out I can see what I can do to get you a visit with him. He might really appreciate it.” He glanced to his father. “From both of you.”

He looked away, out of the window.

_So much for that._

She came around the table and embraced Momoki. “Please, take care of my son. I miss him so much.” The weighted glance she stole at her husband told the entire tale. Somehow it didn't surprise Momoki that his father appeared to have banned any discussion of him. This explained why he hadn't heard or seen them.

“I'm trying, but this is a daunting task. He used to be so talkative. That has changed making it harder to gauge when he is struggling.”

She held up a finger. “Akihito is strong. He will be fine. And the moment he is I want a visit. You promise me that. As soon as possible, got it young man?”

Momoki grasped her hand and forced a warm smile. “I promise. Now … if you will forgive me, I should be getting back to Tokyo.”

“You came such a long way.” She refused to let go of his hand. “Such a dedicated man, you haven't changed a bit. Take care, you have bags under your eyes, poor dear.”

With a bow, he turned to leave, switching back to his shoes at the front door before walking toward his vehicle. A reflection in the car window coming toward him stopped him from opening his door. 

He turned to find Akihito's father, hawk-stare and all. He inhaled and exhaled, shaking with each breath. “Tell me, is he truly contributing? Catching murderers?”

Momoki nodded stiffly. “He was. In our department he is responsible for cracking the case of every single one we have in custody over the past year. That's why we're taking his declining condition so seriously.”

Placing a gnarled hand on each shoulder, Mr. Narihisago declared, “Take care of my son.”

Had he heard that right? Momoki stammered for a moment before offering a hasty bow. When he rose he stared at Akihito's father's departing back. Momoki had never expected to hear that from him now. He knew the power it took for those words to leave his lips.

Maybe there was a chance … if Akihito got it together enough … he would see his parents again for a long overdue visit. 

_**~ID~** _

Narihisago had long since had enough of this bullshit. The day had begun when he'd been fetched from his cell practically as the lights had gone on, cuffed as always. Since then it had been a barrage of tests: scans of various types, repetitive forms with hundreds of ridiculous questions, poking and prodding as they shuffled him from room to room around Kura's medical ward. He hardly caught the names of those running the tests. They addressed him, briefly, addressing most of their commentary to Kokufu and Momoki, who had also been in attendance the whole day.

Hours into this fracas, Narihisago now lay thoroughly strapped down the bed of a machine staring back at the large tunnel he was lined up for. This was one he hadn't been in yet today. There were so many damn initials being yammered about he wasn't sure which one it even was. MRI, CAT, PET? They stood for something, and it wasn't animals.

What worried him the most was the IV they'd stuck in his arm about an hour ago. That wasn't just saline. A tech had injected something and now they waited for some reason no one was explaining. Through the window of the booth he caught snippets of the conversation. None of it was reassuring as he tested the full restraints.

And these were indeed thorough. Padded leather straps firm across his chest, stomach, ankles, upper and lower arms. If this was like the other scan, right before they did it, they would trap his head between two boards, more or less so he couldn't move at all.

_Good thing I'm not claustrophobic or this truly would be hell._

He sighed once more keying into the conversation catching Momoki's reply as he pointed at the screen. “Yes. That should do the trick.”

The tech replied, “Ok, just about ready to proceed. Once I get the baseline scan, we run that video and do a comparative scan.”

“So this will give us an answer?”

“Can't promise anything for certain. But at least we'll be able to see what areas activate when he's triggered.”

Narihisago stiffened.  _Triggered? Wait … what are they doing? Shit no … no!_

He twisted his wrists feeling the tight rub of the straps. It held firm with no appreciable give. He couldn't help but remark, “I hope these straps hold.”

Momoki shot a glance his way, meeting his eyes. “They will.”

“Is this really necessary?”

“Yes. This scan technology has improved recently. We need to witness what's going on inside your head to understand what happens to you.”

Narihisago narrowed his eyes at him warily. “You know what happens. You've seen it. Triggering me is a bad plan. People get hurt.”

“This is the last test today.” Pointing to the IV, he attempted to be reassuring, “We're prepped to sedate you.”

Shutting his eyes tight, he clenched his hands into fists. “You do know that sedation makes me worse, right? What if I rip the IV out?”

Momoki didn't miss a beat. “I'll tackle you.”

“I don't want to hurt you.”

“Just relax.”

Narihisago stared up at the blank screen above his head. “Easy for you say. You're not the one about to lose it.”

Another tech came forward and carefully wedged his head into a padded little box that clamped into place, holding his head in the perfect alignment for the scanner. After a double check, she gave the thumbs up. “Good to go. Let's clear the room.”

Now, Narihisago couldn't see anything but the overhead screen. He heard the door clicking shut. Shifting in the restraints the minute amount he could, he wished dearly he could get up out of this damn thing. The needle in his arm brought a promise of dread.

He did not want to do this.

“Easy, Narihisago. Just calm down. We need a good base scan for this to work.”

He took a deep breath and let it out. “Seriously don't want to do this. Momoki, I'm begging you to reconsider.”

“I'm sorry.” His stern reply came over the speaker. “I promise, this will be as quick as we can make it.”

_Normies!_ Fukuda's word stuck in his head.  _There's nothing quick about this. Nothing at all. Do they find this fun to just poke at it to see what happens? They know what happens. He's seen it, held me down against it, and he wants to just 'see what happens'?_

The machine fired up, whirring and sending vibrations through him as the bed he was attached to slid headfirst into the machine, pausing once his head was fully inside. Peaceful landscapes plastered the screen. Beaches, fields, mountain streams. More reminders of the world he was denied access to. Narihisago breathed as slow as he could wanting them to get whatever the hell they were after if only so he didn't have to repeat this again.

The bed shifted directions, extracting his head from the machine to reset.

_That wasn't so bad._

But he had an idea of what was coming.

A minute passed before the main tech's voice came muffled through the glass, “That's a good baseline.”

Kokufu asked, “How does it look?”

“Ehhh, well, I probably should let the doctor do the interpretation … that's kinda protocol.”

“It's not normal, is it.”

“Hey guys?” Narihisago called out, “A reminder that I can hear you over here.”

Their voices just went a bit quieter, now unintelligible mumbling as Narihisago lay there, his heart pounding in his chest in anticipation. Maybe if he closed his eyes it wouldn't happen. Why the hell were they doing this to him?

“Momoki, I'm begging you. Don't do this. Please.” Desperation entered his voice to the point that even he could hear it as he stared at the black screen. “The cost isn't worth it. Don't show me what I think you're going to.”

Silence for a few heartbeats. Then, “I'm sorry. We have no choice.”

“Momoki!” Narihisago clenched his teeth. 

The dang bed started a relentless slide backward into the machine. Overhead sprang to life filling his eyes with the screen capture, time stamp and all, from the dive into the Gravedigger's well the underside of the perpetually falling house.

There  _he_ stood.

The reaction was instantaneous. “John Walker!” The name tore from his throat so fiercely he tasted copper from his own blood. His vision narrowed to a tunnel focused on that one thing. An object that wrenched all the wrath in him mercilessly to the surface. He thrashed against the tight restraints, unable to gain any purchase, the fury only overflowed as he frothed at the mouth, screaming his frustration. It physically hurt he bucked so hard, unable to turn his head, unable to look away. Even if he was able to, he knew now caught up in the frenzy he wouldn't. There was only one thing on his mind.

_Kill! Kill! KILL!_

Within him the impulse became a runaway train on full throttle pulverizing all reason. Only one thing would stop it.

_Kill! Kill! KILL!_

But he couldn't … John Walker—Hayaseura was already dead.

Hot tears ran from his eyes even as his demented screaming filled his ears. There was no stop to this hell!

The fingers crawled beneath his skin, a strange numbing through his veins. It seeped in, like rain drops into parched soil, gradually penetrating the knife edge shredding his sanity. His muscles lost the agonizing tension. His eyes lost the focus on the screen that had been blank for some time now. His breathing gradually eased into slow gasps. 

The light was fading … but that was all. Closing him off from sensation.

They didn't know what they had done … no one ever listened.

_**~ID~** _

This morning only one thought had been on Momoki's mind as he arrived at Kura, they were going to discover what was wrong and Narihisago was going to be able to see his parents again. Now, in the PET scanner's control booth Momoki stood bolt upright watching in horror. Kokufu's hand on his arm the only that kept him from tearing through the door. Narihisago's deranged cries filled the air. A camera feed recorded his facial expression, he was clearly out of his mind. His body strained and twisted in the restraints the fraction they would allow. Momoki fretted he would break his wrists as he thrashed.

This was a full on fit. Nothing anyone said was reaching him.

The tech's eyes widened as the scan played out in real time. “Holy fuckin' shit! I—I've never seen anything like this!” Quickly he shuffled through a couple other marked 'abnormal' comparative scans.

Even at a glance Momoki could tell Narihisago's scan was wrong. The real time waves of color blazed in various areas.

“Tsh!” The tech glanced between the screens. “If I wasn't seeing this I'd think someone was playing a prank. The doctor will have to give you an official interpretation. But that shit ain't right. See how this one here? It's from a guy in the midst of an addictive drug fix. It's active on the same pathways as him, but his are far more intense. Seriously intense. And overlay this one here, this is a brain in the midst of a panic attack, fight or flight. Check off those pathways as well.”

Momoki pounded a hand on the counter, barely drowning out the screaming. “Do you have enough? For God sake, sedate him!”

“Yeah, yeah. I do.” The flustered tech hit a button and another monitor responded.

It took a full two minutes as the sedative dragged him down. At last, Narihisago lay completely slack on the scanner's bed. Even from here Momoki could see where the straps, padded or not, had rubbed him raw, bruises already forming. Fortunately, the IV had remained in him, wrapped enough that it hadn't popped from the vein. If that had happened he had no idea what they would have done.

He stared at the scans, remembering the dread in Narihisago's voice before this began. Now he truly wondered about the wisdom of this path they had forced him to take.

The tech blinked at the screen. Narihisago's head in the machine's scanner was still giving read outs. They were active. Far more active than his baseline. “Is he actually out?” The tech glanced at the vital read out. “Yeah, he's sedated. Damn! That's way too much activity. What the hell is going on here?”

Momoki buried his face in his hand. Undeniable evidence of what Narihisago had been telling him all this time. All he could do was repeat it, “My God, he'd always said sedation made it worse. Tell me this doesn't mean what I think it does.”

Stunned, the tech looked over his shoulder. “That all we've done is taken his ability to react. He's still experiencing the fit behind closed eyes. I … I've never seen this before.”

“Kokufu … what have we done?”

_**~ID~** _

He opened his eyes, thrashing in the shallow pool. He gasped each breath in a chest so tight it felt like he wasn't getting any air in. Trembling violently, he was unable to begin the coordination to stand.

Warm, gentle hands touched his back. Blindly, he groped toward their source, finding a body kneeling beside him waiting to embrace him as he pulled himself toward her lap. Kiki stroked his shoulders. “I have you, Akihito. Take a deep breath, you're safe now.”

Tears blinded him as he collapsed against her. His sobs echoed in his ears. Not even in the real world anymore and it still tore at him in a raging current.

“How could they?” His throat was raw. “I begged them not to! They wouldn't listen.” He tried to rein it in, but the cycle fed into itself. Shuddering, he clung to her like a drowning man in a flood.

Her fingers combed through his hair. Steady even strokes. “Just keep breathing, this will pass.”

His head rocked back and forth. “Until they trigger me again to satisfy their curiosity. Shit! I know I said I couldn't stay here. I've changed my mind. I don't want to go back. Please! For pity sake, let me stay here!”

“You're distraught, not thinking right. Don't make decisions now” Her voice was calm, soothing as her repeated motions against his scalp leeched his frantic energy. “Open your eyes, Akihito. Look to the sky.”

At first he couldn't. His efforts to even lift his head took too much effort against the imprint of the raging storm. The whole of existence attacked him. Forcing his gasped breathing to ease, at last he lifted his face, tears drenched his cheeks. Bright light pierced the blurred vision. Scrubbing his hand across his eyes, he opened them to a glorious sunset spilling on the horizon. The colors melding from one to the next. Where the light bathed him, warmth soaked into his skin. It felt so … real. He wanted to believe it was real. Like the well within a well when he embraced the delusion. Make this a reality. Stay. Where they couldn't reach him. Couldn't trigger him.

“Just watch and breathe.”

Clinging to her like a boat to an anchor, Akihito observed the beautiful sight. His fingers released his grip on her, reaching out into the light, bathed in the colors as the light source sank. By the time the sun flashed out on the horizon and stars began to sparkle in the sky he breathed normally, rubbing his swollen eyelids with the back of his hand. “I needed that. Thank you.”

“You miss the sunlight as dearly as I.” She leaned over him, smiling somberly. “You were right earlier. You cannot stay here. They need you on the other side.” She took his hand, interlacing their fingers.

“I don't want to go back … please, Kiki.” He squeezed her hand. “They pulled from diving. I have no purpose, no reason … I can't go back to just existing locked in a tiny cell for years on end without change. This is my only way to escape the hell of my life now.”

“By entering the hell that is mine. How ironic.” The fingers of her free hand traced circles in his temple. “You are ill, Akihito.”

“Why is everyone obsessing over that?”

“Because, you are getting worse. The cuts have worn deeper. They worry about you. They care.” She leaned closer. “I care, and that's why I can't let you stay.”

“But … ”

“A brief respite. I will spare you from the aftermath until the sedative wears off. Then you must go back. You are needed.”

His eyes shifted to the starlit sky complete with accurate constellations. “What's wrong with me?”

Her eyes creased, she looked up to the stars. “I don't know the proper terms. But, things are not working right here.” Her hand cupped his head. “I can't fix the dark cascade that has formed. This is something you must do. And soon, before it shatters you beyond reason.”

The stars winked above them in a surprisingly realistic way. He gazed up past her chin, the strands of her hair brushed against his cheeks. He was so tired, all he wanted to do was lie here motionless. There was nothing for him back in that cell. Here she held his hand, their pulses beat against one another.

But … this wasn't the real world. Their pulses weren't even real here … nothing was. He had to go back.

He had no choice, it was time to face the truth.


	14. Chapter 14

Reclining on his bed, Fukuda idly whiled away the time, bored as hell without anyone to chat with. The last few days he and Narihisago had engaged in a few conversations. Among his favorite was a game they had come up with: real case or one of Sakaido's id well dives? He'd been shocked more than once at what the man had seen in real life. Now the truth was, **that** was a guy he wanted to understand. Not Sakaido, but the mind behind him: Narihisago.

What an enigma! Watching him from the cell before his coma was intriguing enough. The guy was calm as hell most of the time. Soft spoken when he did, slow moving, cooperative for the most part. But when he went off … whoa! That was an amazing sight. Reminded Fukuda of an old game where players removed stacked bricks from a tower, each move compromising the structure. Narihisago was rock solid, until someone touched that one brick. Then it all came down. But that wasn't the most puzzling part. What had compelled Narihisago to help those who held him as a miserable captive? There was no doubt his broken mind teetered toward the deviant edge. He was a far cry from a straight and narrow detective that it seemed he used to be. Outside of prison floor he'd had the chance to bolt and leave this place behind. Certainly, the front doors were rigged to blow, Fukuda had seen that with his own eyes, he more or less hadn't really the cared. Death was also a way out. The one who wouldn't let it happen was Narihisago. Somehow, through all that dark twisted shit he'd waded through, a sense of morality remained. And a strong sense of loyalty to the system that had condemned him to an abysmal existence.

Today had sucked. The lights went on with the usual rude wake-up call, and almost immediately Narihisago was taken out. Lunch had already come and still no cell block mate. He couldn't be in a dive. There was no way they'd taken him to the cockpit chamber in his condition. That meant something else was likely occupying his time.

At last footsteps echoed down the corridor. Fukuda closed his eyes and counted. _Wait, something isn't right. One set of steps, two sets of steps … there should be a third. Two guards and Narihisago. There were always two guards, by protocol._

Opening his eyes, he glanced over to see them carrying something. A stretcher between them with Narihisago out cold. The door to his cell opened. They entered and with at least some consideration, they lifted him onto his bed, settling him on his left side.

_What in the hell did they do to him?_

As the guards exited the cell and closed the door, Fukuda sat up with a start staring at the bruises on his wrists and a rather dark concentrated one on the inside of his elbow. He knew what that mark was. From an IV. Absently Fukuda rubbed his own arm at the memories of years ago when he awoke in a hospital after drilling the hole in his own head. He shivered a bit at the waves of disorientation that came back to him. The strange, cold numb void left behind. All those voices asking him how he had come by such an injury … injury? At the time he hadn't been acting. He'd struggled to recall what had happened. The fog of the medications hampered everything. They never learned the truth. No one really knew the truth.

 _Except perhaps_ …

Alone in their cell block now, he cupped the hole in his own head and blinked at Narihisago. He'd seen his id well. He and Hondomachi, might possibly be the only ones in the world to have a clue about his own twisted psyche.

He sighed. Right now Narihisago was dead to the world. And by the looks of things, probably better off being out. _Poor bastard._ How long would that state last?

Lying back down, Fukuda closed his eyes and listened to his own breathing. Off in the distance he could still hear the ranting of that other crazed inmate who only seemed to shut up at night. He wondered why they didn't tranq his ass. Hopefully no one else was housed in the same block as that nut job. If they weren't crazy when they got brought down here, subjected to that noise they would be shortly.

Another handful of hours passed before Narihisago stirred. He moaned as his eyes fluttered open. Before Fukuda could even greet him, Narihisago rolled off his bed and scrambled for the privacy divider.

Holding his hand in the air in the stalled greeting, Fukuda cringed to the sound of vomiting. At least he seemed to have aimed right by the splashing.

A few minutes of gasps interspersed with dry heaving before Narihisago staggered to his sink and rinsed his mouth out. He was pale and unsteady, half out of it as he practically crawled his way back to collapsing onto the bed with a groan.

Resuming the greeting, Fukuda waved and offered a cheesy, “Bright side, buddy, now you know why they had you skip breakfast.”

Narihisago flopped a hand over his face.

“Hey, man, sorry. Just trying to lighten the situation. You look pretty rough. You ok?”

He shook his head slowly.

Fukuda sat up, scratching his chin. “Let me guess, they triggered you.”

Now he nodded.

“Shit, bet that was a nasty trip.”

“They did it on purpose.” His voice was hoarse, far more than the bit of puking should have produced.

“They find out anything?” Below the laid back surface, he bubbled with curiosity to know what made this guy tick. As much as he had poked fun at Sakaido … no one in the room had countered Narihisago's claim that he had been responsible for all the arrest's Kura had made. This man had an impressive ability to deduce … and a twisted application when he was compelled to. Why would they purposefully push his buttons?

Narihisago heaved a sigh and peered between his spread fingers. “I have no idea. They sedated me after I completely lost it.” At length he lifted his hand and stared at the bruising. “Shit. I warned him about this.”

“Well, the good news is you're back before dinner.”

Resting his hand on his stomach he closed his eyes. “Not ready to eat. Jeez I hate sedation. Waking up from it sucks.”

“Breakfast and lunch were actually pretty tasty today. Shame you missed it.”

“That's the one good thing about this place. When they get it to us, the food's actually pretty decent. Not like elsewhere.”

Fukuda shifted, he was talking again, maybe not even realizing how much. Got to keep him at it. “Oh hey, that's right. You were in an actual prison before here.”

He nodded, eyes half closed. “Talk about monotony. You could tell the time of day by the meal. The same damn ones, same order, every damn day. Nothing ever changed.”

“At least here there's variety from day to day. I swear I eat better here than I did before I was arrested. Instant ramen. Mmm mmm. Probably got enough salt to preserve my corpse for the next decade or so.” He flicked a hand. “But still, regular prison for a detective. That had to suck.”

“It did.” He sighed, rubbing the IV bruise. “Almost never got to leave my cell. Nothing in there, except me. Didn't even have a bed.”

Pushing against the mattress, Fukuda lifted an eyebrow. “Where did you sleep?

Narihisago pointed to the floor. “Winter sucked without any heat.”

“Heh, yeah, I remember a patch when I lived in a joint without heat. Was squatting there. Surprised my teeth didn't chatter out of my head. Anyway, speaking of heads … ”

“No. I'm not going to describe your well.” Narihisago shut his eyes. “Nice try.”

“Damn it! One of these days I'm gonna get that out of you.”

_**~ID~** _

Morning sunlight shown through the open door of the Momoki family mansion. Funetaro knelt in the beam before the shrine. A photo of his father in his prized uniform sat propped up, front and center. He folded his hands, staring lost in thought after a restless night.

All night he had tossed and turned, haunted by what he and Kokufu had witnessed yesterday. Narihisago's deranged screams still filled his ears accompanied by the doctor's grim analysis. He had echoed the technologist's real time observation. Never seen such a strange case. There was no doubt the core of Narihisago's problem was an entrenched case of PTSD, but there were other issues complicating things, micro-phobias, signs of abandonment issues, failing coping mechanisms. He was a maelstrom of emotional injuries stewing below the surface crippled by the fact that his brain chemistry seemed to reflect an addiction to the fight reflex. When triggered the drive activated the primal pathways and pretty much turned off any ability to reason. Effectively, with his impulse control stripped, Narihisago was left as a circumstantial berserker. And worse, sedation didn't stop it, it only internalized it. In a way it had made sense. With his incarcerated life, where could he direct the build up into any form of release. He had been left … with nothing.

The dives gave him purpose, but they also introduced new ingredients to the mixture.

The options were not looking great. Referencing the older records the doctor noted that most of the available medications had been tried without any appreciable effects, if there were any most were very bad ones. It was no wonder that Narihisago balked at the idea of pursuing this again. He truly had been through the wringer.

Staring into the photo, Momoki sought wisdom in his late father's eyes. “Dad, you knew him too. What should I do? I'm at a loss. I've never been a leader as confident as you. If you were here, I know you'd have an answer. Some approach to this mess I find myself in. God, I wish you _were_ here.”

His hand gripped the edge of the shrine's platform. “But you fell in the line of the duty before I even took the lead at Kura. Would you be proud of me out of the traditional force? I'm hardly handling things well at the moment, out of my depth. Then there's this place. I'm not sure I'm the one to hold this place down. Why did you leave it to me? It's more than I need or even want …” he bowed his head, taking in deep breaths, “ … are you and mom happy where you are now? I hope so.”

His phone rang. Absently he answered it. “Momoki here.”

“ _There you are. Did you forget about our meeting?”_ Kokufu asked.

Looking at the time, he bowed his head. “No, I'm sorry. I had something that I had to attend to this morning. I'll be right there to go over the files.”

“ _It's ok. Just not used to you being late is all. Got worried. Why don't I start weeding through things until you get here. See you soon.”_

Momoki hung up and heaved a sigh, eyes back on the photo. “Dad? Any advice would be great right now. Some sign? Something?”

At length, he lowered his head right before the picture. “On my own, huh. Ok. Hope I got this right for everyone's sake.”

_**~ID~** _

Days had gone by unbroken by anything. Narihisago had expected there to be something following those grueling tests. Part of him was relieved each day that passed without some threat of procedure. But another part of him grew stir-crazy staring at the same walls for hours on end knowing that there were killers out there to catch, and likely dives that Hondomachi was taking … if they had even fixed the machine. That might still be an issue, even if it had been a week since the EMP fried a good portion of the electronics. The guards had all been tight-lipped, no one told him anything, and he suspected there were standing orders for that.

Kiki hadn't performed any midnight kidnappings of his consciousness. He'd been entirely confined to his cell, physically and mentally. His only relief from boredom was the idle chats with Fukuda. That was something he hadn't had down here. Prior to this he had rarely conversed with the other inmates, outside of certain … undesirable … acts.

“Hrmm … that one has to be a well dive. That's seriously fucked up.”

Narihisago laid his head back against the wall, he'd taken to sitting in the front corner of his cell when they talked. He shook his head.

Fukuda sat cross-legged at the front of his, gawking. “No way. That was a real case?”

“I assure you, that was a real old-fashioned desk case. Well, ok, not entirely desk. Momoki and I were out in the field, like an actual field, along with several buildings to solve the case. And we did have to take a trip out to the docks once they checked out my conclusion and found the actual crime scene. Erf, scenes. Technically I think that qualified as more than one. Anyway, I pitied whoever had to clean up that warehouse.”

“Damn. How many corpses?”

Narihisago rested his chin in his hand for a moment, lost in thought. “Define corpses in this case... and that wasn't the worst part. It was the officers losing their lunches. That was a summer case, by the way, and there was no air conditioning in there.”

“Gah! Now, that's a nasty thought.”

“Yeah, the Stitcher was one of the more grisly ones we'd been involved with, mostly because of the volume. That was one hyperactive serial killer, who as usual, believed he had good reason.”

“Uhhh, I gotta ask, what would possibly be a good reason for doing all that.”

Narihisago was about to break down the twisted motivation when footsteps invaded their conversation.

A figure paused in between their cells. A man in a cardigan sweater, colorful enough it looked like a yarn basket had exploded on him, glanced between the two of them and smiled. “Good afternoon.”

Fukuda cocked an eyebrow. “Uhhh you're new.”

Indeed he was, this wasn't anyone that Narihisago knew. And this new guy was in the cell block presumably by himself. An official capacity of some sort?

_Is he a … oh no._

“May I introduce myself, I'm Dr. Kenichi Hamamoto. Kura has consulted with me as a therapist.”

Narihisago half lidded his eyes, hands behind his head he cradled it against the wall. “I hope you read your contract carefully. You do know what you're getting into, right?”

He laughed, a bit too cheerily. “Of course. It's ok, I have years of experience.”

Raising an eyebrow, Narihisago stole a glance at Fukuda. “What level of facility?”

“Oh, out of my office as a private consultant.”

Fukuda laughed. “Oh great, so a guy with a fainting couch is gonna chat with us about our parents.” He did a mock impression, “Tell me about your mother.”

Narihisago snorted. “Not much to say on my end. My folks were actually pretty decent.”

“Ehh, well, you could say I once had a little daddy issue. But I fixed mine.” Fukuda did an impression if pushing the drill through. “One little hole and—”

“Wait a sec … ” Narihisago sat up, entirely ignoring Hamamoto's stunned reaction. “Don't tell me you drilled your own father?”

“Yup.” Fukuda's pleased smile crossed his face as he raised a knee and rested his wrist on it. “Sure did. Was one of my first, once I tracked the sucker down.”

Cupping half his face in a hand, Narihisago muttered, “But … none of the victims last names … ” he paused, “ … son of a bitch, you were abandoned. You didn't keep their last name.”

“Bingo!” He pointed in triplicate.

Hamamoto cleared his throat. “Which one of you is Narihisago?”

With a wry grin he pointed across the hall. “Not the one with the hole in his head.”

Turning, Hamamoto got his first real look and staggered backward. “Waaah! H'ok. Uhhh.” He turned back to Narihisago, pressing closer to the cell pane as though this was the safer side. “So uhh, they wanted me to start with you. Why don't we start from the beginning.”

Narihisago drew a knee up crossing his arms over it. “I am dead serious … did they honestly tell you what you're digging into here?”

“I am a professional. I doubt you could tell me anything that I haven't heard before.” There was a confidence in that smile.

Narihisago glanced at Fukuda and shrugged a shoulder. “Well, ok … if you insist.”

_**~ID~** _

A knock at the chief's office door stopped Momoki mid-sentence. He turned and glanced at the door as Kokufu called out, “Come in.”

A security guard popped his head through. “Sorry to disrupt you sir, but I figured you would want to know about this right away.”

“What now?”

“That therapist you brought in and had us take to cell block one?” He glanced back outside the door. “I think he's done.”

“Already?” Momoki started.

The guard shook his head. “No … I mean like, done done. We had to pick him up off the floor.” He pushed the door open and another guard held up the shell-shocked Hamamoto. “He's conscious, but only babbling nonsense.”

Kokufu's eyes widened. “Oh dear. What happened?”

“Well, what little I overheard before the guy face planted on the floor was Narihisago and Fukuda talking about id well dives … the particularly sadistic ones.”

Tightening a fist, Momoki stood up. “Damn it!”

Kokufu waved a hand to the guards. “Bring him in, set him in the chair, please. Now it looks like Kura'll be footing the bill for _his_ therapy. And he came so highly recommended. Wait Momoki, where are you going?”

“To perform an attitude adjustment!”

_**~ID~** _

“Did you see his face right before he fell?” Fukuda nearly choked on his own laughter. “I didn't know anyone who still had a pulse could be that pale. That therapist was a real light weight. I mean, what the heck kinda patient was he used to?”

Narihisago still reclined against the wall. “Probably white collar workers with office problems. I mean, I did give him fair warning, right?”

“Oh, I heard it. He had a chance to back out. Too bad he didn't take the hint. Seriously, though. I had no idea half the crap you've seen. How many dives has it been over the past … what year?”

“Ehhh, over a year now. To be honest I'm not sure. I lost count some time ago. But it's been a lot of multip—uh oh.”

Down the hall Momoki's cadence announced his fury. He came directly in front of Narihisago's cell and glared down at him with crossed arms. “What the **hell** are you pulling? I thought you wanted to be able to dive again! You have the nerve to torture the therapist we sent to help you.”

Fukuda chuckled, “Who? You mean Rent-a-shrink?”

Eyeing him, Narihisago quickly drew a finger across his throat. They were already in enough trouble. “He said to start from the beginning.”

“ **Your** problems, Narihisago! Not the twisted mentalities of those you've tracked down. Do you think it's funny shell-shocking an innocent man?”

A bit surlier than he intended, he spat back, “Maybe you should have considered my perspective earlier, you know … before you triggered me out of morbid curiosity?”

“Damn it, we're trying to help you!”

“Tck!”

Pounding a fist on the pane he snapped, “Do you want me to transfer you to another facility for treatment? One for the criminally insane where you won't have any allies to turn to? I could truly abandon you to the mercy of the system. Do you seriously want that?”

Narihisago hung his head, gripping his knee tight.

“I'm serious. Get with the program, I can't help you if you won't help yourself.” The footsteps echoed off down the corridor, leaving them alone in an uncomfortable silence.

Narihisago swallowed with a throat that was too tight. It didn't matter, that therapist couldn't have done anything. They'd made a poor choice for starters. What he needed was someone who wouldn't shatter under the exploration. His stunt had proven that Hamamoto wasn't even close to being up to the task.

Slowly, Narihisago turned and gazed at the photos on the wall. Smiling faces captured in time. His family … but something more. A shadow that set his heart racing as he recognized it … acknowledged it for the first time.

Gripping his head he whispered, “I always talked about Muku … it was her death that started it all … but that wasn't it. I couldn't even really talk about it. That's why I always default to her. She didn't have a choice … ”

Out of the corner of his eye he noted Fukuda sitting forward. “I'm listening.”

He took a deep breath, if he said it, if he acknowledged it out loud … he had to tear off the concealing bandage. “Ayako … when I came home and found her dead … when she left me, suicide … from that moment forward … I was dead alive. Nothing hurt worse than that void left behind. And I should know now, after all the well deaths. If I'd been home with her I could have stopped her. She told me she was alright and I believed her.” He gripped his shirt as the momentum continued to build into a torrent, his throat tightened, the words harder to force out of him. It was like squeezing the poison from a deep wound. “That's it … that's where it all lies.”

“Let it all out, pal. I'm not a mind reader, you gotta say it.”

He shook his head. “Fuck … all those years ago I was wrapped up in the case, distracting myself with trying to find the asshole who took my daughter. I missed the clues, Ayako didn't tell me.” His fist trembled on his knee. “I never mourned their loss, neither of them. I'm still stuck on the anger. Anger at myself for not saving them.” His throat almost closed off entirely. “Anger at Ayako for choosing to leave me!”

“Ehhh … ” Fukuda held up a finger. “Will you permit me to offer perspective on that? From someone who knows?” He pointed to the hole in his head. “Trust me. It's not really a choice when it comes to that point. No one just decides to end on it a whim. I honestly didn't expect to live through this. When I did it I was reaching for relief, a release in death. No one was supposed to live through this. Surviving with the results was rather mixed.”

Narihisago rolled his fingers across his knee, the words sinking in slowly.

“My guess is your wife couldn't take the grief anymore.”

“I never made it that far … ”

“She did, and it crushed her. She didn't want to worry you.”

He huffed a wry laugh. “Look at me now. I wish she had worried me. Why didn't she tell me the truth? Damn it. If she had … ”

“Could you have brought your daughter back?”

His head bowed.

“Where has this anger gotten you?”

Narihisago's eyes wandered around the cell, that question fully answered as he touched the prison bracelet clamped around his right wrist. He rested his forehead on his knee. “I don't know how to let it go. I don't even know how to begin to work through it. What I know now is that it's the reason why I do what I do … that loss, suicide … it's the most agonizing pain I know. The cost is the most dire. A feeling so deep and painful that death is the only relief. Standing on the precipice, I wished that the end would come. I've been there more times than I care to think about it.”

Fukuda offered an empathetic smile, it looked odd on his uneven features. “Where to begin Mr. Anger Issues? That answer is obvious … why, at the beginning.”

Narihisago shut his eyes tight. This well was deep … unfathomable … no, not a well. It was a vast, endless desert without a chart or a compass. The sheer scale threatened to paralyze him.

 _Sakaido wouldn't let it stop him. He wouldn't turn away._ Narihisago held up his left hand, staring at the bare ring finger. “It shouldn't have ended up like this … it should have been different. Years ago when I was a different man … ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not done diving into the world of ID:Invaded. Next in the cue we jump back in time to a prequel. A time before Narihisago falls victim to Hayaseura's demented plan and becomes the pariah. Back when Momoki and Narihisago were homicide detectives ... when Akihito was a different man. I hope you will join me for the upcoming FILE: VIVISECTED


End file.
